Transcendence
by AerienMyxa
Summary: TR/HP. Dark Harry. Alternate Dimension. When you have to sacrifice everything you have to save your soul mate, only to enter a new world where the both of you are supposedly the Prophesized enemies, what are you to do?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. So there.**

_This is a revised version of Darkest Love. Revised. Not rewritten, mind you. _

_Enjoy!_

**Prologue**

_Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end. _

_– Germaine De Stael _

Screams reverberated in the dim, cold dungeon, the clinking of metal as the man pulled desperately against his shackles interweaving with it to form a discordant harmony. The spell was released, and the sudden silence fell, interrupted only by the harsh panting and the thud against the wall as the man slackened his tense muscles. Ragged clothes rustled as the man raised his head in an obvious effort, black eyes still filled with defiance and anger as he spat at the other, but it merely fell back and hit him on his chin.

The other man merely stared back impassively, raising his wand again in recognition of the rebellion, crimson eyes eerie as they glowed in the dim light. Muscles tensed as the chained man braced himself for the umpteenth time of torture. The thick metal door, the only way of escape, scraped open then, letting in soft light. The head of a young man with raven hair popped in, emerald eyes sparkling with life.

"Tom? Oh. You aren't done yet? I thought that you might have finished," a soft voice questioned, warm, yet cold to a certain extent, ignoring the existence of the bloody man slumped on the floor.

Warmth flooded his tone as he replied, though he kept an eye on his prisoner, "Almost. My stress is almost relieved. I will be up there with you in an instant."

At his words, the prisoner's head shot up, eyes dimming. He had thought he was of importance, wanted for the information he held. Never had he thought that he was used for…_relieving stress_ for that monster.

Noting his expression, the man smirked and taunted, "You thought that I needed your so-called precious information? I knew, Vance, I know where the flaming chicken's Headquarters is, where the filthy Light bigots live. Do you think I was so ignorant? I am a _Lord_. I protect my own."

Before the prisoner could utter another word, a green flash of light flew towards him, knocking squarely onto his chest. As the light faded, the life in the man's eyes was replaced by a pale blankness. The man didn't even survey the corpse; he swirled on his heel and walked to the door. With a yank, he pulled the other towards him and captured his lips in a quick motion, ravaging him with practiced ease. The raven haired man moaned, raising his arms to pull him closer.

With great reluctance, the younger man pulled away, panting slightly as he said, "As much as I love this, Tom, dinner is ready."

Swooping in for another kiss, he smirked at the dazed look as he released him, "Whatever you say, Harry."

Pouting slightly, Harry started walking briskly, imitating anger. Tom smirked and took a few steps, but before he knew it, his sight wavered, and a piercing pain struck him. A sharp gasp escaped him as the pain grew crippling. For a moment his magic turned erratic, and he suddenly felt numb all over. His legs gave way as he murmured, "Harry…"

Hearing the thud behind him, Harry turned around quickly, eyes widening at the collapsed man on the floor.

"TOM!"

* * *

Revised: 31/12/09 (Old readers can choose not to read the revised chapters. There isn't much change.)

**Review! Review and I'll love ya forever (:**

**-Myxa**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. So there.**

_Happy New Year! (Or eve, whereever you are). This is a revised version of Darkest Love, now known as Transcendence. Old readers may choose not to read the revised chapters since there's not much change, and wait till Chapter 10 comes out in a few days time. Thanks for all your support!_

_Oh yeah. I will be changing my penname to AerienMyxa soon. So please don't be startled if you see this story being posted under another name(:_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 1**

_Storms may rise around us,_

_Winds may try to pull us apart._

_But I will not break away,_

_For I had promised once,_

_Deep in my heart,_

_That our love will survive_

_Everything Fate throws unto us._

_I will be strong,_

_Because my heart tells me to._

_And of course,_

_Because I love you._

"There's nothing I can do, Lord Potter. I have tried all I can."

The healer's last words rang in his ears, refusing to go away. A myriad of emotions welled up inside him, fighting to emerge as he tried to push them all down. Trying to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat, he murmured softly, "Leave us."

"I'm sorry, but perhaps –"

"Leave," Harry interrupted, commanding firmly, refusing to let his mounting hysterics get better of him in front of someone else. Tom had said it once; a Lord does not show his emotions freely in front of someone who does not understand.

She paused for a while, as though she wanted to say more. However, she quickly silenced herself at the muted glare her lord gave her.

"Yes, as my lord wishes it," Healer Pomfrey sighed, and bowed respectfully, before retreating out of the room silently with her white coat fluttering in her wake. Casting a last sympathetic look at her obviously distraught lord, no matter how hidden it was, she closed the door behind her.

The soft click sounded across the room as the door shut, breaking the dam within Harry. He took a shuddering breath and clenched his trembling hands tightly. Unbidden tears dampened his cheeks as he screwed his eyes tightly shut, teeth biting into his lips painfully in an attempt to still his sobs. Leaning on the wall beside him for support, he slid down, covering his tear-stained face with his hands. Flitting thoughts flew through his head, unable to form as he simply huddled in the corner, arms wrapping shakily around himself for some kind of protection against the unknown.

Tom had tried to find a cure, poring every bit of his last energy in medical records of St. Mungo's, hoping to find any hint of cure, while Harry had spent much of the days talking to renowned Healers about possible treatments, not that it helped much; Healer Pomfrey was one of the top Healers of Britain. Yet no hope appeared.

He had helplessly watched Tom work through the illness that deprived him of all his normal activities – flying, duelling, and many more. He coughed out blood, and began to vomit out all that he ate. His already thin frame became cadaverous as the days progressed. His condition had deteriorated daily, eventually becoming too weak to even lift his utensils. He lived in a constant haze of misery, eyes often glazed with pain as he stared at the ceiling while lying on the bed.

The humiliation of being taken care of was clear, the fear of death was even more eminent. His heart bled every time Tom looked at him in pain, as though pleading him to take it all away. He wished he could. The suffocating sense of dread hung over the both of them daily, and Harry knew that Tom would die. And Harry's soul would die along with him. They were after all, soul mates. Souls that were intertwined for eternity.

Harry stared at the bundle of blankets that he knew contained his thin lover with despair. Will nothing save him? Why did Fate have to torture him so? One of the most influential and richest Lords in the Ancient and Noble Houses hierarchy, and yet he could only stare helplessly as his Death slowly snatched his lover's life away. He could imagine now; living without purpose and without his partner, floating in the land of insanity as redundant whispers of condolences and useless looks of sympathy were directed towards him.

He closed his eyes tightly as he took a deep breath.

…_most influential and richest Lords…_

…_helplessly…?_

A spark of defiance entered Harry's eyes. Lords never gave up. He was one of the most powerful lords in the Wizarding World. He definitely wasn't helpless. He would do anything to save him, to keep him safe and sound, even if he had to sacrifice everything.

All he needed was Tom, and all he wanted for his life was to be with Tom, to live happily in peace forever till the end of time. He supposed it seemed like a fairytale – something impossible, but one could hardly fault him for hoping that a perfect ending like one would find in a fairytale would happen to him. After all, sometimes dreams are the only things people had left.

If he wanted Tom, come hell or high water, he _will _get Tom.

Unsteadily, he rose slowly from the carpeted floor and sat gingerly on the soft covers of the bed. He swept his eyes over the man's frame, tracing the familiar contours.

He liked the way they complimented against each other; tanned skin of his own with the pale flawless skin of his lover's; the thin, long face he saw everyday in the mirror with the aristocratic features of his lover's that he saw every morning; the emerald eyes that, as Tom loved to put it, were framed by long elegant eyelashes, with the crimson eyes that seemed to challenge anyone that they manage to lock on, and his messy black hair that flopped everywhere with his dark, meticulously combed and arranged hair that framed his face artfully.

Reaching over, Harry tangled his fingers with Tom's clammy ones, entwining them together, holding on to them as though it was his lifeline, though not too tightly for he feared he might wake Tom. Silently, he stroked his lover's soft hair with his other hand as he looked lovingly at him. He will find a way. He will.

--

The young blond-haired lady that rested in her favourite armchair sat elegantly, her dress tucked under her, while she tucked her loose strands of hair behind her ear absent-mindedly, in the process jangling her large silver earrings. With a gentle swish of her wand, several ancient-looking tomes appeared on the jaded table in front of her.

Gracefully, she picked up one of them and set it on her lap, opening the book to the page she wanted without hesitation. She quickly scanned through the page and a slight smile began to tease her lips, as a faraway look entered her eyes.

In her mind, she could still see the scrawny, raven haired boy who had protected her from all the older children in the orphanage, the first one who had never minded her strangeness and her seer abilities, the only one who had offered his hand for friendship in the orphanage. It had pained her when she knew that his life had been toppled upside down once again. But now…

Abruptly, she rose quickly with the heavy book in hand, briskly striding towards the open glass doors that led to the garden. Stepping into the bright sunlight, she immediately spotted the dark-haired man she wanted to find, sitting on the garden bench busily tending to his precious potions plants. She breezed over with a carefree gait, her normally wandering eyes brimming with purpose.

She stopped in front of the man, allowing him to raise his head and look at her quizzically. Without hesitation, she spoke up, at the same time offering the opened book. "Tom and Harry are in trouble. They would need our help."

The man's eyes widened for a fraction, and swiftly rose, straightening his black robes at the same time. He took a quick glimpse of the contents of the page opened for him. He then habitually offered his hand to his young wife waiting in front of him, while his mind-gears whirled busily into action. Casually placing her hand into his, she smiled vaguely into space, before following him into the manor.

Luna Lovegood would make sure that she and her husband, Severus Snape would help her long-time friend to the utmost of her abilities – no matter what it would take.

She was not a Seer for nothing, and despite all the burdens that come along with the title, she thought of it as a blessing, since she could help her most loyal of friends.

--

Harry growled in frustration as he flipped through the thick tomes of books. Books of different titles lay across the table, books concerning Potions, Runes, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, History, and anything that may hold a way to save Tom. He was getting irritated. There were spells for concealment, for magic transfer, for space enlargement, for Fidelus, for making properties Unplottable, but there was no fucking way to save anyone from a hereditary disease that deteriorated one's immune system!

With a slight yawn, he put aside the last book he had brought up from the library. He would have to go down to get more. Perhaps some on medical history…

"Harry?" a hoarse whisper reverberated around the dark room, alerting him.

"Wha –? Oh Tom, you're awake," Harry mumbled blearily, rubbing his slightly sleepy eyes as he turned around to look at the half-raised figure behind him. He grimaced when his bones and muscles protested.

"What are you doing?" he asked, wincing when his voice came out in a croak. He stared at the tall stacks of books that stood on his table in disbelief and curiosity. Harry never read. Or at least, never read anything that didn't concern Quidditch.

Harry attempted a half-smile as he replied, "Searching for a way to cure you, silly. There has to be a use for that stupid library that takes up half the manor."

"A quarter only, Harry, you know that. And don't insult my library," Tom said absently, a weird sense of warmth erupting in his heart. Harry was actually reading and researching to help him. That same warmth dissipated at the sudden coldness he felt as he remembered his fatal condition.

"Harry," he started hesitantly, "you do know that my illness is fatal, don't you?"

Emerald eyes that burned with determination and optimism snapped towards him, and Harry stated firmly and strongly, "There has to be a way. I won't let you die."

With that, he stood up from his chair and strode towards him, eyes taking on a mischievous glint as he leaned forward and kissed him. Caught by surprise, Tom's eyes dilated in pleasure, a soft moan escaping his lips as his forehead creased with worry eased.

Harry tenderly cupped the back of his neck and brought them closer together, though he was careful not to put all of his weight on the man that lay beneath him. Tom reflexively brought his arms up and placed them around Harry's shoulders, trying to pull him even closer.

Moans of need erupted from both men, while their tongues tangled with each other's furiously, each refusing to give in to the other. The sensuous desire flooded the both of them, like always when they touched. The bond between them flickered to life as magic flowed around them thickly, caressing their bodies. With a gasp for air, the two broke off, peering deep into each other's eyes, into the depths of the other's soul, where the devotion and desire burned within.

They stayed in that position for sometime, just content with staring into each other's eyes and holding onto each other. Then, Harry tilted his head and nuzzled into Tom's neck, smelling the dark comfort that the older man always seemed to have, the comfort that he felt safe and cocooned in. They settled in the comfortable silence for a few moments, until Harry felt Tom was about to doze off.

"Rest, Tom. I'm going down to the library again," Harry whispered as he pecked the older man on his lips. Tom nodded limply, his crimson eyes reflecting weariness as they shut close.

Picking himself from the bed gingerly, he pulled on a dark blue cloak to shield him from the cold, and slipped outside. He had walked down a few corridors when a sudden pop revealed a house-elf clothed in neat dark green uniforms in front of him.

"Master Harry, theres be two visitors waiting for yous," the house-elf squeaked in the high, trebly voice unique to its species, bowing low in respect.

"Who are they?" Harry questioned, surprised that there would be visitors.

"Master and Mistress Snape, sir. Would yous be entertaining them?"

"Yes. Prepare the usual tea for them, would you? I would appreciate that," Harry replied smoothly, immediately relaxing his countenance upon hearing his friends' names, before casting a Tempus charm. 'It's already near the evenings…Why would they be here?' he wondered.

"Yes, yes, of course, goods Master. I be taking cares of them. No needs to worry!" the house-elf rambled on, before popping out with another loud crack which earned a wince from Harry.

Changing direction, he began his way down to the sitting room. Entering the well-furnished room, he spotted his two guests sipping the offered tea slowly, having comfortably settled themselves on the couch. The lady of the Snape family, Luna Lovegood, one of his best friends, turned to face him. He was startled to see the grim determination in her eyes, instead of her usual dazed and unfocused look.

He opened his mouth to inquire the reason to their presence, but Severus Snape noticed him and cut him to it.

"Shall we take a walk in the gardens?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Severus, a little curious to the request. He nodded curtly, before smiling gently at the seated lady.

"Luna. Shall we?" Harry asked, offering his gloved hand.

She looked at him dreamily, beaming softly. She rose gracefully, stepping forward to place her hand over his.

The trio entered the large garden in amiable silence, each deep in their thoughts. For Harry, he was taking in all the scents and the warm atmosphere of the well-kept garden. It was his favourite place to be, for it held fond memories.

He remembered all too well the wedding ceremony of him and Tom that was held there. It had been beautiful, filled with decorations and the fairytale-like atmosphere. The flowers had been brightly swaying in the wind, as though dancing happily in celebration for their union.

They had thought that they would live in happiness for the rest of their lives, their lives full with love and contentment. But now…

"Tom is about to die, is he not?" A sharp voice he recognized as Snape's cut through the silence. To others, it might have had sounded cold and blank, maybe even scorning and cruel, but Harry could hear the tinge of sadness and sympathy colouring his tone.

He didn't bother answering the question. His silence gave the answer. He couldn't make himself face them. He didn't want the pity.

Hushed silence reigned between them for a while, as if all of them were grieving for a certain loss. Harry raised his hand and fingered the petal of a lily – both Tom and his favourite flower.

He didn't expect Luna's next words.

As blunt as ever, she calmly spoke the words as though she did not know that it would not turn his whole world upside down.

"There is a way for Tom to stay alive, although the risks and side-effects may be great."

As the first part of the sentence finally registered in his brain, his head whipped around quickly, eyes widened so comically that Luna would have laughed, if not for the gravity of the situation. Harry sucked in a sudden breath and blurted out, his voice full with hope and mixed incredulity and surprise, "What?!"

Eyes full with surprise stared at the blond-haired lady standing primly before him, half-formed hopeful thoughts swirling around his confused mind rapidly. His mouth was wide open, his expression both incredulous and hopeful at the same time.

She smiled slightly at his dazed expression, allowing her words to settle before repeating slowly, enunciating each word properly as though talking to a retarded child, even when Harry was far from that. "There is a way to save Tom, but the risks and the side effects may be great."

Her words struck home, snapping him out of his reverie. Harry's emerald eyes burned with hope and life. His whole body felt like it was filled with optimism for the first time in weeks.

"Yes, yes, I heard you. There's a way, right? What is it? How long would it take? How does it work? –"

Severus could feel an incoming headache pounding its way in as the br–Lord Potter rapidly fired the truckload of his questions. Furrowing his eyebrows, he directed a slight snarl at him.

Upon realisation that the boy that was practically jumping around was too excited to take the hint, he pulled himself into an imposing figure and snapped brutishly, "Merlin! Would you listen before you open the blabbering mouth of yours?"

Harry paused for a moment at the snarky Potion Master's words, a frown flickering over his face before disappearing. Bouncing on his heels, an anticipating look filled his face. His spirits were much too high now to be dampened by his snarls.

Correctly reading the expression as Harry's impatient "Well what are you waiting for. Get on with it!" look, Severus sighed internally in frustration, thinking, 'What in the world has Tom taught him over the years as a lord? Nothing seemed to have changed with the infernal boy!'

Ignoring her husband's irritated look, Luna gave a bright smile, and promptly answered the waiting Lord.

"Jumping dimensions."

Harry blinked, stopping his bouncing, and narrowed his eyes as he contemplated the suggestion. He had heard of the theories from Tom.

Each universe had many different dimensions, each slightly different from the other, yet similar to each other. It was said that the number of people in every dimension would be exactly the same, and would be the same in looks, behaviour, personality, but deep down inside, the soul of each person would be slightly different from another from a different dimension. Events that occurred in one dimension however, might not happen in another.

Jumping dimensions was an obscure art, and nobody could know for sure whether it truly works or not. Historical records of jumping dimensions were few, and each hardly informative. After all, not everyone would toy with the possibility of being killed by the theoretical warped space in between dimensions, and those who did could not possibly return to report.

Basically speaking, it was all theory and no proof.

Harry stared at Luna thoughtfully, uncertainty and hope pumping through his veins at the same time. It was a ludicrous suggestion, yes, but Luna never lied to him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked straight into Luna's eyes, asking quietly but steadily, "Why do you think it would work?"

Luna gave a mysterious smile, lightly placing a finger on her lips and tilted her head gently, allowing some of her dirty-blond hair to fall to the other side. Her swirling silvery eyes were dreamy as she gazed beyond, her words a serene whisper as she spoke, "The Nargles told me that this morning."

Normal people would have snorted, dismissing her words as fantasy, but Harry knew better. Knowing Luna for years, he knew that her Nargles were something special. Understanding dawned on him, and he nodded curtly.

"Let's return before we continue, shall we?"

Turning around, he headed back towards the manor. He much preferred to discuss such stuff privately. Luna and Severus followed him, understanding the need for privacy.

Entering the sitting room, he motioned for Severus and Luna to return to their seats. Harry made his way to his favourite couch – his and Tom's love-seat – and slumped into it, all the while his eyes locked on Luna, bright with anticipation.

Luna carried on serenely, "There is only one dimension possible for both of your souls to move in and take over the existing bodies. You souls will merge with theirs; however yours will be stronger due to some circumstances, allowing the both of you, instead the Harry Potter and Tom Riddle in that world to exist. The body of Lord Harry Potter and the diseased body of Lord Tom Riddle will stay behind in this dimension, soulless."

"That dimension is very different from ours, and the both of you will have to set up your own life all over again."

Harry hesitated for a while, before asking, "What's your role in this, Luna? And Severus?"

Severus gave a curt reply, his voice cutting as he said, "Luna's the seer and I'm the Potions Master."

Harry blinked, surprised at Severus cryptic answer. 'Usually it's Luna who gives such vague answers…' Harry thought wryly. He smirked as he replied, "An answer unlike you, Severus."

He gave no reply, though his lips tweaked up in a slight smirk.

Turning around, Luna stared at him for a moment, emotions flickering in her eyes, in place of her usual dreamy look. Luna leaned forward slightly, raising her hand to cup Harry's face, like what she always did when they were young. Slight agony crept into her face as she whispered, her voice resounding in the room, and in his heart. "It's going to be hard. I wish you won't have to go through so much."

She then sat back, and whispered, "Only if you continue to believe in true love will you survive, and will you be truly happy and together again. You'll be happy once more, Harry, that I promise you. However, the difficulty remains. It won't be easy, Harry, so think carefully."

A sudden stillness blanketed the trio as her words ended. Harry's eyes were steely with grim determination, his mouth drooping in resignation as Luna's words registered in his mind. Turning her words carefully in his mind, he pondered his options and possibilities. His heart knew his answer even before his mind did.

"Will you do it, Lord Harry James Potter? To save your bonded mate from the clutches of death, even if it means bringing pain and strain onto yourself?"

Without hesitation, Harry straightened his back, his eyes smouldering with passion and purpose. At that moment, Severus mused, that Harry actually looked like the Lord he was supposed to be. Power flowed around him, every ounce of him promising unwavering resolve and utmost conviction.

"Yes."

Luna let out a soft smile, and even Severus smiled, well almost.

"I wish you luck, Harry. I believe that I, no matter in which dimension, will still aid you."

Harry beamed.

* * *

_Revised: 31/12/09 (Old readers may choose not to read revised chapters. Ain't much change anyway.)_

**REVIEW! Review and I'll love ya! XDXD**

- Myxa


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Nope. Nada. Zilch. Harry Potter still doesn't belong to me.**

**_Happy New Year! Chapter 2 revised coming up!_**

**_Enjoy!_**

**Chapter 2**

_Storybook endings,__  
fairytales coming true.  
Deep down inside,  
we wanna believe they still do.  
And a secret is taught,  
it's our favorite part of the story.  
Let's just admit we all wanna make it to. _

_Ever ever after,  
if we just don't get it our own way.  
Ever ever after,  
it may only be a wish away._

_- Ever Ever After by Carrie Underwood_

The Wizarding Square was crowded as usual, with shopkeepers hollering their bargains, some poring over the haphazardly placed on-sale merchandise outside each store and the rest shuffling along the pavement, trying to squeeze their way through the swarming crowd so as to get to their destination as quickly as possible.

Harry apparated into the Square with a loud crack, dressed in formal forest-green robes, with a black over-robe where his family crest was printed at the back. He strode in an unhurried pace down the winding streets, black dragon-hide boots clicking softly on the bricked pavement. Heads turned to glance at the approaching Lord, as whispers started to pass around.

"_Isn't that Lord Potter? My, my, he's so handsome!"_

"_I would have jumped on him if not for the fact that his bonded will kill me!"_

"_I can't believe I have the good luck to see him today!"_

"_He's cute!"_

At the corner of his eyes, Harry spotted a few girls flicking their hair at him, smiling coyly, while a group of boys leaning by the walls winked at him. He had to control the urge to laugh incredulously when he saw even young children looking at him with unconcealed devotion in their eyes.

Trying to ignore the loud whispers, Harry growled internally in frustration. He hated this part of getting out of his own lands. Lords and Ladies of the Ancient and Noble Houses were placed on a pedestal, often crushed upon by the young hormonal teenagers of the normal public. They were the royalty, the target for paparazzi, and the object for love affection.

They were exactly the reason why he always stayed at home, just like most of the other nobles. He knew that Draco, Blaise and the group of friends he had felt exactly the same when they got out – they felt like murdering every single one of those wizards or witches who threw themselves at their feet.

Harry eyed some of the goods on sale with a critical eye, snorting when he spotted some of the ingredients in the Apothecary were of low quality. Severus was so going to chew them out. He stiffened when he saw a group of girls heading towards his direction, each with purpose in their eyes.

"My lord, you seem to be alone. Would you wish for us to accompany you?" a girl with long brown hair cooed flirtatiously, her sharp voice grating on his nerves. With a sharp look in her direction, he replied in a low, warning voice. "I'm afraid not. I have important business to do. I thank you for the offer, though."

"But –"

He didn't wait for the girl to finish, simply giving a short bow and a terse smile before heading towards the other direction.

If there was one thing he would not miss when he travelled to the other dimension, it would be that.

The crowd separated to form a path for him as he made his way down the street, towards the large fountain that sat right in the middle of the streets of the Wizarding Square. It was enormous, crafted out of white exquisite marble. Water splashed out from a levitated marble platform erected in the middle of the fountain, onto a black granite base, producing a delightful sight, resulting in many stopping to admire.

Ancient runes were carved at the base of the goblin statue that perched in the middle of the fountain, supported by a large block of marble that sat on the levitated platform, where black, carefully crafted words wrote: Gringotts Bank. The extensive craftwork and magic used to create merely the entrance, reminded people of how rich and powerful the goblins actually were.

Approaching the fountain, Harry stopped, standing firmly in front of it, stating in a clear voice, "May the goblin nation forever prosper."

Almost immediately, a translucent bubble surrounded him, lifting him gently and hovered above the pool of water for a little while, before plunging down into the fountain, sinking beyond the black granite base. Wind ruffled his hair as he was thrust into the depths of the fountain that led to the bank, strands of darkness trickling around the bubble as he journeyed down.

With a lurch, the bubble stopped and burst, revealing the grand lobby of the bank. Crystal chandeliers hung precariously from the ceiling, giving the room a gleaming elegant glow. The floor was covered with a lush ivory carpet, walls painted a deep golden. Large wooden desks were placed orderly around the sides of the room; each cushioned chair sat a stout goblin dressed in dark blue robes with the Gringotts emblem printed at the back, along with a black belt around the waist.

Pulling himself into a hopefully imposing figure, Harry internally cursed his short height. That was why Tom was always the one dealing with official matters; anyone seeing his cold exterior and gleaming crimson eyes would be scared.

With an internal sigh, Harry stepped in front of the nearest goblin, wandlessly casting a Silencing spell to prevent anyone from listening in. In perfect Gobbledegook, he said, "Greetings. May the goblin nation prosper with gold. I wish to set up a will, and I humbly request an audience with the head of Gringotts over the secrets of _travelling_."

The goblin looked up, surprised that someone was respectful enough to address him in his own tongue. His eyes narrowed upon hearing the last word. Warily, the goblin grunted, "Travelling?"

Harry nodded briefly, carefully replying in a low tone, "I need the spell, if you please."

The goblin instantly replied, "I'm afraid I do not know what you're talking about. If you are speaking of travelling across continents, then you should proceed towards the Ministry to obtain cross-continental portkeys. We have no way to help you there."

Harry squashed down the rising irritation. In usual circumstances, he would be impressed and would approve of the goblins' secretive manner to protect their secrets. Not that time. He allowed his power to flare up threateningly, before continuing in a low voice, "I respect your wishes to keep your secrets, but I will truly appreciate it if you will reveal it to me. I wish to know of the cross-dimensional secrets that your species hold for thousands of years not for any destructive purposes, but to save the life of someone."

The goblin stared at him blankly. Harry stared back, eyes burning with fervour and pleading. After a few moments, the goblin turned to press a nearby button, and spoke a few words in the goblin tongue. Then, he pressed it again, before looking up.

"Our head is informed. Will you pass me your will?"

"It will be in memory form, both mine and Lord Tom Riddle's. Here it is," Harry passed two phials containing a misty liquid over to the waiting hand.

Holding it carefully, the goblin tapped once on each phial, and muttered a few words. The phials glowed for a moment, before disappearing with a soft pop.

Without a pause, the goblin placed both gnarled hands onto the table and forcefully pushed himself up and out of his chair. Walking forward, he gave Harry a side glance, and raised his hand, one of his fingers twitching slightly, beckoning him to follow.

With a swish of his robe, Harry followed.

They entered a large, dark tunnel, with the only light coming from the dim lamp the goblin held in hand. In the middle of the tunnel, tracks and small, rundown carts normally used when people went to their vaults were situated. However, the goblin ignored them and turned left, making his way down along the small concrete path into the inky darkness.

Pursing his lips tightly, Harry pushed down the uncertainty and slight fear that welled up within him. He straightened his back, eyes flitting from right to left, as his hand flew to his wand.

He could not be sure that the goblin in front of him would not kill him for knowing one of their most treasured secrets – travelling across dimensions.

'Better be safe than sorry,' Harry thought as his slender fingers fingered his holly wand, his legs moving briskly to catch up with the goblin's fast pace.

They spent a few minutes of walking through roads that twisted left and right and through cramped areas in almost complete darkness, and just when Harry had a suspicion that the goblin was trying to mislead him to prevent him from memorising the way he came from, they came to a halt in front of a large silver door with two brass handles in the middle.

Without hesitation, the goblin knocked onto the door twice, and grabbed the two handles and pushed, revealing the insides of the room.

It was simply-furnished, almost sparse, with white-washed walls and bare wooden floors. There were only a few straight-back chairs and a bulky, old-fashioned table standing right at the back. Behind the table though, was an ancient-looking goblin adorning black robes, sitting primly. Small, round spectacles rested on the bridge of his florid nose, eyes locking curiously onto the young Lord.

Harry took a few steps forward, remembering to dip his head in gratitude towards the goblin that led him, and averted his eyes in respect when he turned to face the obviously important goblin.

Hearing the doors clang shut behind him, he knew that the other goblin had left. A sense of discomfort washed over him, as he stood there feeling rather unsure of how he was to deal with this. For a moment, only breathing could be heard within the room.

"You wish to know the secrets of travelling between dimensions, do you not?"

The sudden growl from the stout goblin almost made Harry jump. Gulping, Harry silently berated himself for being nervous. 'Just be yourself!' Harry thought, feeling rather panicked.

Taking in a deep breath, he forced himself to speak out.

"Yes."

The goblin surveyed him carefully, and Harry had to stop himself from squirming restlessly. After a pregnant pause, the goblin opened his mouth again, speaking slowly and heavily, "You're taking a big risk here, young Lord. We can easily kill you for knowing our secret, and no one of your species will ever know that it exists with us."

Gulping, Harry kept his eyes focused on the goblin, replying squarely into his face, "I will take the risk to save him."

The two of them stared calmly at each other, showing neither disrespect nor fear. The goblin seemed to be weighing his options, and soon after, he spoke up. His eyes were bright with curiosity; his fingers linked together, his rough chin propped on it as he stared at the young Lord.

"I wish to know the one who told you the existence of such a spell, and that we goblins hold such important information."

Feeling a little calmer at the thought of the serene lady, Harry replied firmly, "Luna Lovegood, or Luna Snape, Lady of the Ancient and Noble House of Snape."

The goblin paused at his words, his face turning thoughtful.

"The Seer?" he asked to confirm.

Harry nodded.

The goblin's eyes widened, his lips curling up to form a slightly disturbing smile. Without contemplating any further, he then abruptly stood up, his hard leather boots clicking loudly onto the wooden floor as he walked towards Harry. Raising a hand, his mouth twisted into a wide toothless grin, which somehow looked malicious, and spoke in loud, rough tones.

"The Seer sent you. I see. If that is the case, I will glad to help you. I personally will oversee the ritual that will send you over to the dimension you want to travel to. If Seer Lovegood has made this prediction, then I would not dare to defy Seer Lovegood's words. The goblins will gladly let you in to our greatest secret. I am Ragnok, Head of Gringotts."

"Harry James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter." Harry replied, feeling relieved, grabbing the offered hand in a handshake, ignoring Ragnok's strange words.

--

Harry watched Tom as he continued to cough, a sad frown on his face as he took in the pale countenance and fragility of his lover. He carefully manoeuvred Tom to lie against the propped up pillows, making sure to tuck the blankets around him warmly. Sitting on a comfortable cushioned chair, Harry spoke of the plans to his lover.

Light from the bright lamp danced over Tom's face as his expression turned from exhausted to delight and surprise. He looked so happy that Harry smiled back, nodding encouragingly.

"I will be healthy once more? And, we will be able to stay together?" Tom's voice seemed like an excited child, or as excited as he could get in his energy-drained state, as he asked inquisitively.

"Yes, but it won't be easy," Harry warned, feeling rather apprehensive at the thought of it.

Tom became silent for a moment, his crimson eyes reflecting. Tilting his head up to meet the eyes of his lover, he spoke quietly, "I will still be alive. That is more important than anything else, don't you think?"

Harry smiled. He couldn't say he disagreed. He had often wished that Tom was off battling a herd of enraged hippogriffs than face such an illness. There was a greater chance of surviving.

"So you have no complaints about this jumping across dimensions thing?" Harry cocked his head to the side, questioned.

"Yes, though I am surprised that you would know the existence of such a ritual. I personally only knew it a few years back, and I'm extremely well-read. I didn't even know that the goblins hold such information."

"Well," Harry said sheepishly, scratching the side of his head, "Luna helped."

"No wonder," Tom replied dryly, his mouth twisted into a smirk, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Hey! What did you mean by that!"

"Well, it just figures that your small brain can't even compute the hidden meaning of that sentence," Tom drawled.

"Idiot!"

"Well well, resorting to meagre insults now, brat?"

Harry merely stuck out his tongue at him, grinning wildly. Seeing the soft glow of love shimmering under the bright light in Tom's eyes, Harry's heart warmed, knowing that his eyes most likely reflected the same. Unknowingly, their fingers tangled together, enclosing each other's in a loving clasp. Laughter filled the room, while the couple kept talking till Tom was much too tired to continue.

Harry spent the afternoon gazing at Tom's sleeping form, his fingers idly stroking his hair, voice humming softly their favourite song. For the first time in many days, he felt hope.

--

It had taken many days to prepare, and to bid goodbye to their many friends. They never told anyone about Tom's illness, or about their permanent trip, but they left many hints. Harry hoped that they would get it, and understand.

The goblins proved to be most efficient, with preparations dealt with within a week. Tom had looked with great interest at the calculations-filled parchments that were brought into the manor, while Harry took a look at it and groaned; the squiggly lines gave him a headache. Goblins trooped in and out of their manor for days, and they were finally ready. They were about to be sent off.

He stood at the side of the room, watching Ragnok set up his equipment as he held tightly onto Tom's hand, while Tom leaned partially on him and on the wall behind him.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. He had completely no idea what would lay in the near future, and whether Tom and him would survive this through. However, there was no way he would change his decision. Saving Tom meant everything.

"It is about to start. I am going to ask you one more time. Are you sure about this? You are going to leave everything you know behind, to somewhere where you have no idea where loyalties lie. Are you going to take such a risk?" Ragnok rasped.

A sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead, under the dim lights of the dancing flames that was set up using a mixture of magical wood in the middle of the room.

Harry felt the hand he was holding onto clench in determination. Both voices rang out, "Yes."

"Very well. Lie down in the circle, both of you," Ragnok nodded curtly, before waving his hand towards the circle.

The ritual room in the dungeons of Riddle Manor was being used; ancient runes drawn using a white powder that had been filled with magic covered almost every inch of the stone floor, except at the centre. A circle was drawn, using a similar powder, but in deep blue colour. Within the circle though, was blood runes that glimmered under the flickering light, done using both his and Tom's blood mixed together.

At Ragnok's command, the both of them stepped into the circle, Harry half-supporting the other. Carefully, they lay down on the cold floor in front of the fire, and linked their hands tightly together. Their eyes were locked onto each others', offering silent comfort.

Severus and Luna, who had been watching silently at the side, now stepped forward. Slowly, Severus uncorked a phial of thick black liquid and poured it over the fire. The flames immediately turned reddish-black, casting eerie shadows over the walls.

At a silent command, Ragnok and Luna began to mutter long chants of the ancient language, the low and high voices mixing in a strange sort of melody, echoing around the room. The chant was entrancing somehow, and slowly, Harry felt as though his vision was starting to spin and blur. At the side of his eyes, he could see the ancient runes – both blood and powder, starting to shimmer. Harry closed his eyes briefly, allowing his mind to clear, before blinking them open.

As the room began to spin terribly, his body felt like it was squeezed through a small pipe. Just as he thought he was about to burst, he sensed the bond between him and Tom flicker to life.

"_I love you, eternally_," Tom lovingly whispered.

"_I love you too, forever_," Harry murmured back affectionately.

In front of him, a dark abyss opened, and the last thing he saw and felt was a flash of light, and a harsh tug towards it.

Harry never regretted.

_

* * *

_

_Revised: 1/1/10 (Old readers, just wait a few more days. Chapter 10 will be out soon.)_

**REVIEW! Yoohoo!!! Do review(: Constructive criticism welcome too!**

**- Myxa**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Nope. Harry Potter still belongs to J.K Rowling.**

_**Beta: LemonyCrosby (Love this girl XD)**_

_**Enjoy!**_

**Chapter 3**

_The courses of true love never did run smooth.  
_

_-William Shakespeare_

_**Godric's Hollow, 31 October 1981**_

Lightning streaked across the sky, the low rumbling of the thunder sweeping across the land. The dark clouds hanging heavily from the night sky rained its first drops, as a strong wind blew across the rows of identical houses. A strong sense of dread slowly shrouded the small town of Godric's Hollow, as the villagers remained unaware within the warmth and comfort of their house.

Inside a small Muggle-looking house, a beautiful redhead had a raven-haired child tucked under her chin; she crooned soft lullabies as she slowly rocked the child to sleep. Nuzzling into his mother's neck, the child whimpered softly, before nodding off.

The doorknob suddenly turned, opening to reveal a young man whose face creased with slight worry. He took a glance at the scene of the woman he loved most and his child, his worried gaze disappearing into an affectionate smile.

"How's Harry, Lily?" he asked, his eyes gazing at the both of them softly. "Hey there, Prongslet," he murmured lovingly, reaching over to ruffle his hair lightly.

"James! He just fell asleep, so don't wake him up please." Lily whispered, a tinge of irritation and fear colouring her tone.

Pausing for a while, she bit her lip, her eyes shifted from one end of the room to the other. Unable to contain herself, she burst out into a nervous whisper, "I don't know what got into him today, but he has been awfully restless and had cried a few times, simply refusing to sleep. Do you think…?"

James snapped up quickly to face her, his eyebrows knitting together worriedly. He shook his head slightly, desperately trying to hide his frantic.

"No, it can't be possible. Dumbledore has given us the strongest protection…" James' voice trailed off, staring at Lily wide-eyed, anxiety creeping into his hazel eyes. "Plus, how would a little baby know anything, not to mention something of this magnitude?" James blabbered on, finishing off with a nervous chuckle.

Staring at her husband's troubled face; she regretted alerting her husband unduly. Taking a deep breath, Lily replied in a wavering low voice, trying to placate him. "Maybe it is just my imagination. At least, I hope so…"

Both adults gazed at the sleeping baby shifting in his mother's embrace, each reminded of the horrible prophecy that haunted them through the days and nights ever since they knew.

The thunder crashed then, and the silent anxiety within the quiet house grew.

--

_**Unknown Location – Voldemort's Hideout**_

'_I am Lord Voldemort, Dark Lord of the Wizarding World, and Dark Lords do not get defeated by stupid little children who can only wail for their mummies!_' Tom Riddle, or better known as Lord Voldemort, thought irritably, his vein throbbing in his temple as he twirled his wand rapidly.

He had received the news of a prophecy a few weeks ago from Severus, one of his precious Inner Circle members, and it had never ever failed in irritating him with its contents. He could not believe that he even had to spend his precious time to arrange a mission just to kill the brats! Resisting the urge to rub his aching temples, he reminded himself of the presence of his followers.

Speaking of them, Voldemort raised his head slightly to view them. He had to push down his smirk rising within him when he realised that the long wait had made them even more nervous than usual.

His followers peered apprehensively at him, their eyes flickering back and forth between the twirling wand to its wielder nervously; some even followed each twirl of the wand, as though ensnared by a spell. Some had started to sweat, their sweat drops trickling down their forehead. They knew that their Lord had a mission for them, and only the snivelling rat, Peter Pettigrew, now prostrating himself at their Lord's feet, knew why the mission was held.

Voldemort turned his gaze from the mass of waiting followers in front of him, and turned his attention to the one follower, or rather, the blubbering mess on the floor, and drawled lazily, "Peter, your slobber is dirtying my floor."

Pettigrew only had the time to widen his eyes before Voldemort thundered, "Crucio!"

Screams filled the dimly-lit room, and each Death Eater watching felt glad that it was not them that the once twirling wand turned on, and not them writhing on the floor, shrieking in pain. A few younger ones at the back winced slightly, while the hardened ones merely stared dispassionately at the scene.

After a few seconds, Voldemort flicked his wand, ceasing the spell. He sneered at the now whimpering figure, hissing dismissively, "You should be glad that you are of help recently, or the Curse would have had held for more than that!"

"T-thank you, my L-lord. I-I did not m-mean to…" Pettigrew broke off, hastily wiping the floor where his face had once pressed against with the hem of his robe.

Irritation grew within him, as he glanced at the pitiful excuse of a wizard sprawled on the floor. As much as he loved control and being a Dark Lord, it had not meant that he appreciated bumbling idiots such as the one before him working for him.

With a silent growl, Voldemort turned to face the rest of his waiting followers. He allowed a feral smirk to spread across his face, feeling a vindictive pleasure at seeing some of his followers flinch or cringe.

"My Death Eaters, we will be having an extremely vital mission on this lovely evening. If this mission fails…" Voldemort purred, his voice hardening as he spoke, before trailing off. He could see his followers shivering at the deadly warning in his tone. Excellent. It won't do for his followers to be complacent after all.

With a swish of his dark crimson robe, he stood gracefully, his face twisted into an evil visage, his eyes gleaming with malice as he hissed ominously, "Leave. The Longbottoms are waiting for you…"

Voldemort waved his wand, cancelling the anti-Apparition wards for a moment.

Almost immediately, loud cracks filled the room, as the Death Eaters followed their Lord, appariting out one by one to where one of the Prophesized boys lived.

Voldemort waited for all of his followers to leave, before turning to face the filthy rat, hissing cruelly.

"Bring me to the Potters. It is time to end the second possibility of the Prophecy."

--

The old man sat in his chair, his tongue rolling about his favourite sweet – a lemon drop. Leaning back, he slowly stroked his long white beard that had not been cut since Merlin knows when. His twinkling blue eyes scanned his cluttered Headmaster's Office, his eyes stopping now and then on the Sneakoscopes and Dark Arts detectors laying idly on the shelf at the side, then on the sleeping phoenix on his left. He gave a contended sigh and closed his eyes briefly, thinking of all his achievements.

Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Headmaster of Hogwarts; Founder and Secret Keeper of the Order of the Phoenix. The events that led to these achievements were mostly unfortunate, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. The dead were already dead. The ones alive were much more important.

Giving a slight frown, his thoughts turned to the Prophecy he had heard not long ago. He would never have thought that Sybil Trelawney would bestow him such a wonderful gift.

'_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he __will__ have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...'_

Well, well, if it was not young Harry Potter! Of course, the other choice would be Neville Longbottom, but the magical burst when young Harry was born…

There was no mistake that he was the one. Plus, Tom would most definitely choose the half-blood over the pure.

With a sad sigh, he fingered his beard slowly, giving into his morose thoughts. _'Young Harry must be the hero, but it comes with a great price. It always does.'_

As much as he wanted to protect the younger generation, he couldn't afford to protect Harry. A hero has no choices. The Wizarding World has no choices.

Ruffling its feathers, the phoenix awoke, and looked at the Headmaster, his beloved master. Oh, he loved the old man, he really did. However, he couldn't really bring himself to approve of the actions he took after his glorious victory over Grindelwald, it was as though he thought himself to be the Messiah of the Muggles.

No longer could he see the wise man that thought himself as a human and as an equal to every other wizard. Now, the man only thought himself as God and self-proclaims that his actions are right and just, when some are actually mistakes.

The blind belief in the prophecy was an idiotic move, for it was well-known that prophecies made by weak Seers like Trelawney were chancy at best. Furthermore, not all prophecies will be fulfilled. Just because of this decision, Dumbledore would destroy the happy Potter and Longbottom families.

He knew that deep down, Dumbledore was still the man he used to be, and that was the only reason why he still loved the old man. However, he knew that the old man would soon harm than benefit the rest of the Wizarding World if he continued in his "For the Greater Good" plans. A life was still a life though, and there was no excuse to not protect any being.

It doesn't matter though. The dimension walker will soon arrive, and he will be there to offer his help as the world's real Saviour…

Even if he could not help the Potters and the Longbottoms. He will make everything right, and Dumbledore would be able to repent from his own mistakes.

It might not be too late.

--

The loud cracks of Apparition alerted the Longbottoms, as they rushed to the window, gasping in horror when they saw the cloaked Death Eaters swarming in.

Windows were smashed, doors were blown open. Loud, tortured screams were heard from the house as the evil cackles of the Death Eaters resounded around the manor.

The Longbottom family was destroyed that night.

--

_**Between Dimensions**_

Harry wanted to open his mouth and scream, but he could only lay still, his whole body feeling numb. Every single muscle of his was frozen, and it was as if he was Petrified, unable to move at all. His whole mind was flooded with fear; fear that he would be torn apart by the warped space between dimensions, and fear that he would not be able to see Tom ever again.

All he could see was empty darkness. So much of it that he wondered whether he was still conscious. The intense pain that hit him a few moments later changed his mind. It started within him, slowly eating him out. If he could move, he would have had screamed till his throat was raw, would have scratched and pulled at his limbs till they were dripping with blood. His whole body felt like it was on fire, with several daggers piercing through him at one go, while his mind wanted to shatter into pieces. Oh Merlin! He felt like just killing himself to get away from it.

Suddenly he felt a slight presence in his mind. Tom… His Tom.

Harry was suddenly reminded of why he was going through the unbearable pain.

For an unknown reason, they could not speak mentally, but the presence was soothing by itself. Slowly, Harry gathered his energy and tried to block out the pain. Tom's presence gave him strength, providing him the support he needed, as the pain started to distance away. He could feel their bond humming, his heart almost bursting as love flooded through him.

'_We will face everything together, whatever it is that the Gods throw at us,_'Harry promised himself, as the empty space in front of him began to swirl and spin, sucking him forward, the pain gradually getting stronger. Harry simply tolerated it, eyes wide as he saw a ray of light shining from a far end.

--

The loud thunder crashed, muffling the cracks of Apparition as Voldemort and Pettigrew appeared, the Lord standing confidently while the servant cowered in the shadows.

Stepping forward, Voldemort was inwardly pleased when the Potters' cottage appeared. 'Looks like Pettigrew do have some use…' he thought. Behind him, Pettigrew merely whimpered when he saw the twisted smirk appearing on his master's face.

He whipped his wand out, as he swept towards the cottage, his mouth twisting into a malicious smirk. Without hesitance, he casted a strong Blasting curse, blasting the door as it was blown off its hinges. A wail and a shriek were immediately heard from upstairs.

James Potter was standing there, horror etched onto his face, his messy black hair flipping everywhere as the strong wind blew in. His eyes were stretched wide open, disbelief filling his face as he gaped at the Dark Lord.

Suddenly, he snapped out his wand and pointed at Voldemort, his face settling into a determined expression, although fear lurked in his eyes. He shouted, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off –"

Sneering, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at him, which he hastily dodged by dropping onto the floor. Snapping his wrist, he pointed his wand at Voldemort as he shouted, "Reducto!"

Voldemort lazily flicked his wand, creating a shield that easily bounced the spell off. He stepped a step back when another curse flew at him. Giving his wand another flick, he sent a non-verbal spell flying towards James Potter who was now standing.

James twisted his body sideways to avoid it, at the same time casting a non-verbal jinx towards Voldemort, determination set in his face. Before the jinx hit Voldemort though, he casted another three spells at him.

Voldemort had managed to avoid the first, second and third, but the fourth grazed him on his cheek, leaving a trace of blood.

He sneered at James Potter, his voice malicious as he drawled, "Well, well. It seems that your auror training paid off, didn't it, Potter."

Giving a growl, Voldemort concentrated and gathered up more of his magic and before James Potter did anything to defend himself, he casted three Killing Curses at one go.

Shocked by his power, James stood rooted on the ground, allowing all three curses to hit him, effectively silencing him. James crumpled to the ground, his face carved into an eternally terrified expression.

Slowly, Voldemort made his way to the staircase, and ascended the stairs. He heard the stumbling of feet across the landing above, and the incessant wails of the baby.

Flinging open the door where the second prophesized baby lay, he let out an evil cackle as he saw the red-headed mother trying to protect her child by standing in front. How useless.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!

Slightly irritated, Voldemort cooed, "Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now."

Lily begged, her eyes filling up with tears. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead. Please … have mercy …"

Now incensed, Voldemort slashed his wand across the air, thundering, "Avada Kedavra!"

The curse hit her, and life seeped out of her emerald eyes, as she slumped on the floor, her red hair partially covering her face. The wails rose even higher in volume and pitch, if that was even possible.

Voldemort stepped over her body, snorting as he took a look at the foolish woman. Turning to face the small crying baby lying in the cot, Voldemort's features contorted into a mocking smirk as he crooned softly, "Well, well… It seems like the Prophecy Boy is not all that powerful isn't he."

Taking two steps back, he poised his wand in front of the young child's forehead, and murmured cruelly, "Avada Kedavra!"

Green light flashed, zooming towards the crying boy.

--

Pain. His mind was flooded with agony, the blinding sensation flushing over his whole body. Pain. He could almost feel his bones were breaking into tiny, crumbling pieces. Pain. His eyes were rolling to back at the mind; his brain was shattering into fragments. Pain. He was quite sure his limbs were in a bent position, crooked at the areas where he felt his bones break.

Like many times before, he tried to stretch his mouth open to scream, although he knew his muscles most likely would not.

His mind registered vague surprise when his mouth finally opened, his eyes finally able to roll back at the intense pain as the former darkness was swamped with swirling balls of lights. He could feel Tom's hand clenching his own, as the both of them were yanked towards the opening, where all the lights were streaming from.

Screams of pain and surprise poured from both of their mouths, immediately dissipating into the empty space around them.

Light flooded around them, and suddenly, they were through. There was no more pain. Flashes of scenery passed them, as they were pulled swiftly towards a certain location. He could not see his surroundings well, but he knew they were no longer in their dimension. Their journey had started.

Slowly, Harry's eyes adjusted to the rapidly changing scenes, and began to see more of the areas they were passing by.

It was so different. In their world, wizards wore only robes and wizarding wear. However, he could see… Muggle clothing on them? Harry nearly gagged at the thought of the Muggles. They were the ones who made his life hell, though he probably should thank them, for it was them that allowed him to meet Tom.

Looking around, he noticed that the area they were in looked like Godric's Hollow in their world. It was where he was born in the other dimension, and he heard that his father only loved the area because it was where one of the Hogwarts founders, Godric Gryffindor was born.

He supposed that it was the same in this dimension.

Suddenly turning, he knew instinctively that they were heading towards the only house that had its door open, banging wildly in the wind. A man was crouched beside the doorway, head bowed as he shivered. He didn't recognize the man, but Tom seemed to, what with the sudden growl he let out.

"He's a traitor to your dead parents, though he was killed by your late godfather."

Harry did not question any further. He didn't want to know.

They were pulled in through the front door and up the stairs, before coming to a sudden halt. Their souls floated above a scene that their eyes quickly adjusted to see; a scene Harry never thought he would see.

The little child that resembled a miniature Harry Potter lay on the cot as he cried, probably for his dead mother, likely to be the woman lying dead on the floor, her eyes blank. She vaguely resembled Harry's own mother, but he could not be sure, after all it had been years since she had been alive. Pointing his wand was a tall man, looking exactly like Tom that Harry heard himself and his lover beside him gasped in surprise.

It was a scene of murder, so full of cruelty. If Harry had not been trained in controlling his emotions, he would have cried; cried not because of the young boy, but because of the black soul this dimension's Tom Riddle had.

His Tom could kill, yes, but not without remorse. His Tom could be cruel, yes, but not towards young innocent children. The stench of death was so thick in the air, the sense of doom permeated in every corner. Harry felt nauseous. The baby simply cried louder and louder, his wails not affecting the cold-hearted man standing in front of him.

As though sensing what he was thinking, Tom floated over, murmuring softly in his ears, reassuring him. "I'm not him. I will never be."

Watching the Killing Curse flying towards the boy, Harry suddenly felt himself being pulled towards the child. Their linked hands broke apart, and Harry's soul touched the young child's at the same moment when the Curse struck him.

Slowly, his soul was pulled further into the young body, the green light enveloping them. He could not feel anything, but he thought he could hear the soft screams and wails of the dying soul within the young baby.

When he was fully in, he experienced a paralyzing shock across his head. His temples started to throb with extreme pain, head spinning agonizingly, his eyes blinded by the bright Avada Kedavra green light.

Distinctly, he heard the loud screams coming from the murderer, as he saw part of the killing curse mix with all the magic his soul created when he took over the dying baby Harry and bouncing back, hitting him head on.

At the same time, Tom's soul began to make his way to the monster.

He felt their bond being strained as Tom's soul began to enter into the body, before agony flooded down the bond, as he sensed in terror when his lover's soul began to separate into several pieces.

Before he could do anything or think of why though, his previous life was suddenly flashed out in front of him, one scene following the other; one memory presenting itself one after the other. To his horror, the memories disintegrated almost immediately after appearing within his mind, leaving a trail of shimmering dust dancing in the empty space of his memory.

The pain was unbearable, and yet he reached out desperately, hoping to capture the floating particles, hoping to piece them back together. He couldn't lose Tom, he couldn't lose everything. He felt tears streaming down from his eyes, his whole mind in a total blur of despair and bewilderment. As if Fate was playing a trick, the dust slowly disappeared before him, leaving only his mind reaching out for nothing but empty air.

The anguish he felt only doubled when the strained bond between the broken pieces of souls of his lover's and his own soul snapped apart, leaving the empty space swirling in his heart. He had never felt so empty before; his heart breaking into tiny pieces as he felt the loss of his mate.

Everything was going wrong. So very wrong.

His eyes rolled back as the destruction of the images increased, until the point when the last memory burst into dust, leaving the faint imprint of the existence of his lover that he desperately clung on, did he black out.

A last thought flashed across his mind, 'I will make this all right again... Tom, I love you.'

On the other end, seven souls glowed as they thought of the same thing.

They were soul mates, and no matter how much obstacles Fate wanted to place in their way, they would prove to her that they were meant to be together by knocking every single one of them down.

* * *

_Revised: 1/1/10_

**Do leave a review! I love reading those(:**

**- Myxa**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the lady named J.K Rowling. Not me.**

**_Beta: LemonyCrosby (Three cheers for her!)_**

**_Enjoy!_**

**Chapter 4**

"I love you…" The young boy sat upright in his bed clutching tightly to the blanket as that murmur left his lips, heart palpitating wildly as rivulets of sweat rolled down the nape of his neck. His eyes were wide open, his head spinning and thoughts whirling around in his head, his normally well-controlled emotions a wreck.

Again, that dream again.

Slowly and hesitantly, he raised his trembling hand and brought it to his lips, touching it lightly, brushing it flittingly. His fingers felt cold to his dry lips, and he moved his hand slightly to cover part of his mouth. The words so filled with emotion that was uttered from his throat and the faint impression that the dream he dreamt was heartbreaking struck him deeply.

He took in a deep breath, cold air stinging his parched throat. Closing his eyes, the young boy took in a few more breaths and waited till his heart and head stopped pounding so heavily.

"What was it that I dreamt of?" a soft, strained whisper broke out suddenly from his constricted throat. It always frustrated him that he could not remember that particular dream except for the last sentence.

He knew instinctively from his raging emotions that the dream was filled with powerful emotions, so horrifying but real, so painful but filled with hope, so despairing yet filled with love. In fact, he was sure that the dream was not a dream, not a nightmare. It had to be a memory. Nothing could be as real as that.

Yet, it was impossible for it to be a memory. He was so young, how would he have a memory of loving someone? It made no sense.

Growling in frustration, Harry rubbed his aching temples irritably. From the corner of his eyes, he saw sunlight streaming in through the only window in the room. He scowled at the sight of it. There wasn't any point of going back to sleep anymore. It wasn't as if he was allowed to.

As though it was a signal, a loud screech sounded from the living room.

"Brat! Come out and make the breakfast. Now!"

He grated his teeth at that irritating sound, before swinging his legs off the bed. His light feet pattered around the room as he systematically made his bed, picked out his clothes – all being large, tattered and second-hand, and brushed his unruly hair with a patched up comb.

Looking at himself at the mirror, he scowled at his image. Floppy raven hair that simply would not stay still aggravated both him and his relatives. He had a good mind to shave it off one day. He glanced at the image again. Then again, he thought, he looked better with hair.

He was pale, much too pale. Even after hours of gardening in the sun, probably the only chore he enjoyed, he still could not get tanned. He wondered why.

His eyes trailed up that scrawny figure with distaste, stopping when he noted his scar. Lips compressed slightly, his scowl disappeared into a neutral expression as his hand rose to his forehead. His fingers began to trace the lightning shape of the scar, the feathery touch causing shivers down his spine, as he looked blankly at the image of the scar.

It was a ritual, actually. Every morning he would look into the mirror and see the reddish-brown lightning scar reflected there. He would touch it and wonder where it came from, what happened to his parents and why did he have special powers?

Yes, special powers. Powers that could make him teleport from one area to another when he was in danger of being beaten up by Dudley, create light out of nowhere, make things disappear and more. They had surfaced when he was about five, and though he was glad for those abilities, he was curious about them.

Casting his thoughts aside, Harry gave his hair another brush before glaring at his image. Harry strode towards the door, effectively ignoring the dream he had last night. He would dream of it again tonight, or at least again soon. Of that, he was sure of. After all, he had been dreaming that dream for as long as he could remember.

Stepping into the hallway, Harry immediately changed his confident countenance to a hunched, shy one. His head was pounding as he left the room, possibly from the lack of proper sleep. He had a feeling that something would happen today, something big.

--

Flipping the pancakes swiftly and skillfully, Harry stared blankly at the kitchen walls, his mind filled with thoughts as he quickly arranged his schedule for the day. He had never been allowed to go to school, and had the freedom to go anywhere he liked, as long as he could finish the load of chores placed upon him.

Of course, in the past when he was four or five, it had been impossible to finish the whole chunk of chores, but ever since his powers manifested, completing the chores took almost no time at all. That had always boggled Petunia to no end.

That, of course meant that he had loads of free time left. And, of course, it meant trying to find ways to learn despite the schooling he was denied of.

His mind wandered as he continued to cook, wondering if he should head towards the library, or towards the playground. He didn't particularly like to read, but he liked the librarian. She was an awfully good conversationalist, and got him cookies every now and then, supposedly to 'put some meat on them bones' as she so fondly said.

Then again, he wanted to head towards the playground. It was his favorite area to play around with his powers. A loud clang of plates snapped his attention back to his surroundings.

He regretted it immediately.

Behind him, the two whales were gobbling down the food like pigs, the disgusting snorts and gulps they made while they ate making Harry cringe in revulsion. How in the world could these people not be embarrassed by their own revolting manners?

Stifling the urge to turn around and sneer at them, he continued to keep his head down, and tried to concentrate on planning out his day. Maybe he could go out to the garden to at least have a decent conversation, with a snake no less. Yes, he could talk to snakes, for some unknown reason. Yet another of his special abilities, he supposed.

"Go get the newspaper, boy," Vernon, bellowed from his seat. Harry quickly made his way to the living room, grabbing the newspapers and rushed back. He didn't want the bacon to get burnt. Petunia would only smack him for it.

He hated them. He always had. Harry frowned contemplatively. They mocked him, beat him, spit upon him, and neglected him, the whole enchilada. But the fact that perturbed him was that they were repulsing to him.

Now granted, anyone would be disgusted by two human-whales and an ostrich with hair. But the disgust he felt was on a subconscious level that made him want to retch all he had eaten. It was just something about them…

…_Muggles…_

Harry shuddered, suddenly feeling iciness and disgust washing inexplicably over him.

Though, his powers had always saved him.

"_Oh hey! That's my orphan cousin isn't it?" Dudley taunted, his face twisting into an ugly sneer. Behind him, several of his buddies sniggered uncontrollably; their mocking laughter rang in Harry's ears. He hated to be reminded that he was an orphan, lonely and unloved._

_Growling in anger, Harry clenched his fists so painfully till his fingernails were pressing deep into his palms. He glared at the gang in front of him, wishing they would all drop dead._

_Noticing Harry's sudden enraged expression, Dudley gloated, "What? Gonna hit us? Are you sure you even have the courage? You're merely a weakling without his parents!"_

_Harry saw red. Before he knew it, he was trying to pummel Dudley to death, yet before long, he was the one being punched everywhere. Each blow struck him hard, and hit him to the brink of unconsciousness. He could still hear the ringing laughter in his ears, as they continued to taunt him._

_His blood was mixed with tears, his whole body aching with pain. He was sure that his whole body was bruised and cut all over. He managed to make his way back to the house without anyone seeing him, though the effort cost him much pain. _

_Looking up at the dusty gray ceiling, Harry's heart clenched. Why did Fate love to torture him so? Shame, pity and a whole lot of emotions flooded him, and he felt like just huddling there forever. Tears welled up in his eyes, and suddenly, comforting warmth filled him. _

_His eyes widened at the sight of the golden glow surrounding him, caressing his skin, shimmering over his skin. Slowly, he raised his hands and waved them about, marveling at the beauty of the golden light._

_He didn't realize that the pain he felt before had lessened, until he saw cuts and bruises beginning to heal themselves to his surprise._

_His eyes had been full with child-like wonder as he gaped throughout the whole process. It had been the first time when his powers surfaced to heal him._

It was his abilities that protected him from the brunt of their neglect. His powers healed him when Dudley and his gang hit him too hard, created light out of nowhere when he was shivering and crying alone in the dark when he was young. It was his powers that gave him comfort and warmth when he was huddled in the cold of his room.

It was practically the only thing that gave him any resemblance of love. He could feel the strands of his power caressing him, filling him with hope, every time he used it.

However, he realized that there was one hole in his heart that no matter how much love or neglect he had, loneliness still seeped out from it. It was a perpetual feeling of sadness, a constant aching pain of emptiness. He didn't know what it was, but he thought that it was because of all the family love he was deprived of, being placed in among relatives that hated him right down to his core. He couldn't even call them relatives; not when he was scorned and attacked at every turn.

Giving a sigh, he switched off the stove. With a swift turn, he walked silently towards the corridor, preparing to hide in his room for a while, at least till Vernon and Dudley was out, and Petunia elsewhere. A call for him stopped his steps though, making him curse silently.

"Brat! Dudders forgot to bring down his bag. Go and get it for him now!" Ah, the _wondrous _screech of his aunt's. Damn her for making him do such stuff. He wasn't a servant for god's sake.

Gritting his teeth, Harry chanted mentally to remind himself to not rebel, lest for any consequences, forcing his expression to become neutral as he turned around and nodded at his aunt. Then again, it would not have been the first time Vernon hit him anyway.

Trying to make himself unnoticed, he shuffled quickly into the hallway and climbed the stairs to where the bedrooms were. Flinging the door open, he briskly strode and pulled up the bag, contemplating for a moment whether he should cast something on it, before deciding against it immediately.

He rushed down the stairs, before half-throwing the bag to the boy sitting lazily on the chair. He really, _really _wanted, for not the first time, to wipe that smug grin off that pig's face.

Of course, before he could really do that, Vernon bellowed loudly from his seat.

"Boy! Get the post now!"

Casting his head down to prevent himself from glaring at the Dursleys, Harry quickly moved to the doorway.

Picking up the letters laid on the carpet, he quickly flipped through them. "Insurance company, electricity bills…" Harry muttered softly, then, "To Harry Potter?"

Widened emerald eyes stared at the heavy letter in surprise. A letter for him? But…

How?

No one ever wrote to him. Turning the letter over slowly, he noticed the seal. He was sure it was a crest of some sort. His fingers traced the shape of the seal, his heart welling with hope when an idea popped into his head. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was the escape to the dreary life he had.

He didn't bother going back to the living room; the letter would just be taken away from him, and he will never know what it contained. He knew his relatives too well.

But this…

For once, something belonged to him. Hurriedly, Harry tore open the seal, quickly opening the letter. There, written on the parchment was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Wizardry?" Harry murmured, his eyes widening in realization. "The time when I was healed inexplicably, the time when I suddenly teleported to somewhere else just as Dudley is about to hit me, the time when…Oh God…"

"Oh God…" Harry repeated again, his voice trembling. His hands were shaking as he scanned the rest of the letter. "Oh God, oh God…" he continued softly. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, just like the hope sprouting within his heart.

He wanted to believe what was sent to him. He wanted to believe, no matter how much lies had filled his life. He read and reread the letter with disbelief, his eyes remaining wide open.

If it was true, then he had found it, almost all the answers to his life. It explains so much, all of his abilities. It was _magic._ He was a _wizard._ Judging by his relatives' constant reminders of which there were to be no abnormalities in their house. It was as though they expected it. There was no other explanation. They knew, probably because his parents were magical too. He will find all his answers there, in the magical world.

As his fingers traced over the last few sentences of the letter, he made up his mind. He hastily stuffed the letter back into his pocket, quickly walking back to his uncle before he could suspect anything.

'_We understand that you live with non-magical citizens; hence you might not know anything related to magic. Therefore, we will dispatch one of our staff explain the magical world to you on the following Friday, and if you would like to attend Hogwarts for your magical education, to also fetch you to Diagon Alley to purchase your school necessities.' _

Next Friday. He didn't know whether the letter was true or not, but if it was, then proof will be shown on Friday. Maybe, just maybe, he would be out of this hellhole soon.

--

As expected, he couldn't sit still. It had been Too. Damn. Long. It had been one whole torturous week of waiting and one whole week of his continuous mundane life.

Tapping his foot impatiently, Harry looked in from the garden into the living room, glaring at the clock for the umpteenth time. That bloody staff member was supposed to be here! The letter said so didn't it?

Harry sincerely hoped that the letter was not a hoax. He didn't think his heart could bear the disappointment. Biting his lip, Harry spared another glance at the clock. With a sigh, Harry flopped back onto the ground. Maybe he was just too impatient. It was only morning after all. The man still had most of the day to arrive.

Or maybe he was just being too naïve and hopeful.

"_Youngling, what isss making you so irritated thiss morning?"_ a soft hissing voice sounded from his right. Without turning, Harry replied in slight frustration.

"_Nothing, really..."_

He felt something slither over his stomach, before a reptilian head popped up in front of his face. It was a beautiful green snake, its scales shimmering under the bright sunlight, with deep black eyes that seemed almost human. She leveled a glare at him, her eyes clearly stating 'I don't believe you'.

Harry lowered his eyes, and hesitated._ "It's just, well, the letter,"_ Harry finally hissed back, hurt and disappointment coloring his tone. Whipping his eyes up to face the green snake again, his face contorted with rage as he fumed.

"_The letter promised! It promised me! I really thought… I really thought that something good was finally going to happen to me..." _His voice trailed off slightly, uncertainty creeping onto his face. Biting his lip, he asked bitterly, his expression turning downcast, _"Eros, am I being too stupid?"_

The black, fathomless eyes of the snake peered into Harry's emerald green ones, unnerving him for a moment. With a soft hiss, Eros slithered over to the side and up his arm, coiling itself contentedly around his right arm. Glancing up at Harry, she hissed lazily, _"No, child. You're jussst worried. The letter may be falssse, it may alssso be true. The day isss not over yet, young one. Have a little more patience."_

Eros had been the very first snake he ever met, and she was also his very first friend. Harry had clicked with her almost immediately, though he had thought her as a little…weird.

He remembered the day when he first met her, when he was about six. That day had been particularly harsh on him, since he had been smacked by Vernon earlier on in the day, and then forced to do gardening under the hot blistering sun.

His cheek had turned red and puffy from the pain, his eyes brimming with tears. He had been sniffling and wiping the sweat of his forehead constantly, heart heavy with depression and fury as he continued to pull the weeds out of the dry soil.

What had happened next completely surprised him.

He had felt something move up his leg and before he knew it, he saw a brilliant green snake coiling itself on his left arm. He had given a strangled cry, falling back on his behind as he stared horrifically at his raised left arm, too afraid to do anything. He had been lucky that his aunt did not hear him.

The snake had simply raised its head lazily, hissing, _"This day is too hot. Your arm is comfortable enough. Let me rest. Go to the shade, human."_

Needless to say, he had been speechless, both at the fact that he could understand what the snake said, but also at its strange and dismissive behavior.

He was still unable to get over the fact that there was a snake, albeit a pretty one, curling itself on his arm, hissing in satisfaction.

With no choice, Harry abandoned his gardening tools and crept under the bushes, hoping Petunia wouldn't spot him, all the while holding his left arm far, far away.

A conversation with it later on in the day, however, got him warmed up to her.

Eros was intelligent, and had an arrogant character, as though nothing could best her. She was awfully protective of him, like a mother hen. She brought him extra food, probably nicked from someone else's dinner, talked to him, encouraged him when he was down, and had once even strangled Piers when he tried to hit him. Pity he didn't die.

Harry always teased her about her mothering tendencies. A nip in the wrist often stopped that though.

Harry trusted her, more than anyone else.

Deciding that he should heed her advice, Harry flipped over to lie on his side, ignoring Eros' hiss of annoyance, instead enjoying the cool shade of the bushes. He dimly wondered why Eros would have such faith in the letter, before he pushed that thought away, intent on sleeping.

The nagging thought about the letter in his head never disappeared.

For once, he decided to do up all the chores instead of heading towards his usual haunts, hoping that work would distract him. He didn't think he would dare to leave the house – he was afraid that he would miss whoever was going to pick him up, if there was such a person in the first place.

The time ticked by, slowly, minute by minute, wearing on Harry's patience and emotions. As each chore was completed one after another, the disappointment he felt doubled. In the end, he abandoned his chores to brood.

Eros thought that he was being stupid.

When night fell, his heart had been riddled by deep disappointment and regret, sadness and anger. He could feel tears prickling his eyes and a lump in his throat that just wouldn't go away. He didn't care that his body was filthy, he didn't care that his hair was in a bigger mess than usual. He just wanted to hide from the whole world and cry.

He thought he could have a new life, but he was wrong. He thought he would have the opportunity to go to somewhere new, to make friends, to have a chance at a happy life. He was mistaken.

He hated to cry, it made him look like a weakling. In fact, he hardly cried. He made it a point to learn from his mistakes, and he had thought he wasn't gullible. Well, the letter taught him better.

His feelings reflected the turbulent storm raging outside, lighting flashing like his anger, thunder crashing similarly to the hurt he felt, rain drumming heavily on the window panes like his disappointment and wind howling like the pain he felt for the let down.

He huddled on his lumpy bed, ignoring the television sounds coming from the living room, ignoring Eros' constant hisses of placation, ignoring the darkness that he always hated, but always existed in his room.

Nothing good ever happened to him, the thought ringing loud and clear in his head.

A loud bang resounding from outside and frightened screams, however, cut off all of his depressed thoughts. Raising his head partially, his eyebrows rose in alarm when muffled screams continued to sound from the living room.

His mind whirling quickly at all the possibilities, he decided that fleeing was the best way. No way was he going to act hero and try to save his damn relatives from the unknown horror.

When stomping was heard down the hallway, closer and closer to his cupboard, he froze.

He sure as hell didn't expect that.

"Oh shit, oh shit…" Harry mumbled in slight fear. Looking around, he tried to find somewhere to hide. He was not about to jump out and tackle something unknown, thank you very much. He loved himself way too much, even if his life had been like shit.

With another loud bang, the door of his cupboard flew open, just as lightning flashed brightly. Harry froze like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes squinting against the blinding flash at the shadowed figure in front of him. His only thought had been that he could not hide in time.

He noted the greasy hair first, before the pale, sallow skin. The man was tall and was extremely imposing. He couldn't really see the rest of him properly. Before Harry could look more carefully, however, a deep voice barked out loudly, making him flinch. "Potter, aren't you. I'm a Professor of Hogwarts. Now, let's get out of here. I don't want to stay in this filthy Muggle place for too long."

Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the man, immediately becoming wary. However, it didn't stop the beautiful feeling of hope blooming within him.

Perhaps, he might just have a new life after all.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.**

**_Beta: LemonyCrosby (XD)_**

**_Enjoy!_**

**Chapter 5**

Coming to a stop as he saw the house, he threw his darkest glare at it. He was not an agreeable man – his students would attest to that. He definitely could not stand children. He sure as hell hated the name Potter and anything linked to it. Add them up together and anyone could see that he was the worse choice to escort Harry Potter to Diagon Alley.

Obviously Dumbledore wasn't anyone.

Taking a look at his surroundings, he suppressed a sneer. It looked so _boring._ He didn't think anyone could live in such places. Their lives must be extremely monotonous. 'What do they do everyday? Eat, study, sleep and gossip?' he thought, making a face at that thought.

He strode towards the house, reapplying the spells to make sure that no drop of rain touches him. Hiding a wince when the thunder cracked a little too loudly for comfort, he pressed the doorbell. And again.

He sneered at the doorbell, all the while thinking of ways to murder the people living in the house who were apparently deaf. With a flick of his wrist, he was grabbing his wand.

Stepping back a few steps, he brought up his wand, uncaring if anyone saw him. He didn't think that anyone would be looking out of their window in that heavy storm, and even if someone did, they would most likely dismiss what they saw as fantasy. Furthermore, memory charms were awfully useful as well.

Bringing his wand down in a forceful slash, the door blasted open. He smirked when he heard screams erupting from the living room. 'Serves them right for not answering the door,' he thought snidely.

Stalking in his usual way, he winced at a shrill scream coming from a corner. Whipping his head around, his eyes narrowed when he spotted her. Lily's sister.

He recognized her after all the years. She held little to no similarity to her beautiful sister, though her contempt and jealousy for her sister knew no bounds. He remembered her. She was the one who made Lily cry at night, the one who made Lily miserable.

He held no pity for her.

Hearing whimpering from the other side of the room, his eyes flicked over. For once, he was glad of the training he had as a spy, or else he didn't think that he would be able to hide the look of disgust. Merlin, were those…whales?

"W-who are y-you? Why a-are you h-here?" a hysterical scream broke into his ears, snapping him out of his incredulity.

He turned his fiercest glare towards her, making her flinch. Giving a cursory glance around the room, he noted that the boy he was looking for wasn't there. Unless… No. A Potter wouldn't have blond hair, and probably would not have a whale-like structure. He hoped.

"Where's Harry Potter?" he growled softly, his voice carrying across the room, cutting through the tense and terrified atmosphere.

He saw Petunia's eyes widen in realization, her eyes glancing at his robes now with a startled recognition as her fingers rose in an accusatory pose. Her chin began to tremble in fear as her mouth opened to shriek, "You! A bunch of freaks! Get out of my –"

His eyes narrowed, the last of his patience snapping. Taking a predatory step forward, he purred dangerously, "I'm sure you don't want any trouble, Muggle. Give me the boy and I assure you I'll never come back willingly again!"

Petunia's mouth snapped shut at the man's dark glare, staring terrified at him for a moment, her whole frame trembling with fear. Slowly, she pointed her trembling hand towards the hallway.

"T-the c-cupboard," she stuttered, as she crumpled onto the floor, her whole frame shuddering with fear, her eyes wide as she continued to stare at him, as though paralyzed. He sneered at her, before whirling on his heels and headed towards the direction she pointed to.

He refused to acknowledge the rising dread within him at Petunia's words. He had firmly believed that the Potter brat would be so well taken care of that he most likely would be extremely spoilt, and nothing could shake him out of that particular belief.

At least, that was what he believed until he saw the cupboard door. It was so small, with a tiny barred window allowing in the minimal ventilation. It reminded him painfully of his childhood, the beatings that he still felt, the darkness that was always there, and the loneliness that never left him. He clenched his fists, chasing those thoughts out of his mind hastily.

Squashing any sprouting feelings ruthlessly, he grabbed the door open just as the thunder crashed again.

His breath caught as he saw him. The first thought was that Harry Potter was small. So small that he wasn't quite able to match him with the saviour of the Wizarding World, so small that he wondered if this was really James Potter's son.

The second thought was that the boy looked so thin, so malnourished. He thought he saw faded bruises on his arms and face, but he couldn't be sure. He wore clothes so tattered and over-sized that it totally enveloped the small frame of the boy, accentuating his fragility. Once again, he wondered if the boy was really Harry Potter.

When their eyes met, however, his whole world spun, his delusions of Harry Potter having a prince's life finally shattering.

Those were Lily's eyes, bright and vibrant. Those were Lily's eyes, brilliantly emerald. Those were Lily's eyes, flashing with defiance as they looked at him.

Yet, they were dark, so filled with pain, so full of weariness, and so jaded. The hope that flickered in those eyes now seemed so out of place.

They bore a soul so burdened, a soul so steeped in despair, a soul so old that it didn't belong in a body so young and fragile. It reminded him so deeply of the same eyes he saw every morning as he looked into the mirror. Harry Potter reminded him of himself.

It bothered him that Lily's son should be like that, should be treated like how he was treated in the past. It bothered him deeply.

Shaking himself internally, he snapped out of his reverie.

He barked at Potter loudly, hoping to cover his slightly shaking voice. "Potter, aren't you. I'm a professor of Hogwarts. Professor Snape. Now, let's get out of here. I don't want to stay in this filthy Muggle place for too long."

He regretted his harsh tone slightly when he saw the boy flinch. His regret turned into shock and disbelief as the boy retorted impetuously, "Prove it."

Scowling, he reluctantly pulled out his wand as he internally cursed Potter. Speaking out loudly to make sure the brat caught the incantation, he lighted up his wand. A sense of pride for magic filled him when he saw Potter's eyes lighting up. Raising an eyebrow, he snapped, "Now are you coming or not?"

He turned swiftly and headed back towards the direction he came from, his ears registering the quick scrambling and light pattering of feet as Potter followed him hastily. He ignored the whimpering Muggles in the living room, and the distrustful eyes that the Potter brat still gave him, albeit more muted, and gave a soft, frustrated sigh as he stepped out of the house.

He had his work cut out for him, he decided.

--

He almost laughed as he saw the Professor's expression when he asked him to prove the existence of magic. He couldn't have expected him to trust just anyone he saw, or anything anyone said, especially something as unbelievable as magic. Though, he should have been more careful than to just follow the man, but he couldn't help himself.

He didn't realize it immediately at first, but when he met him for the first time in the room, he felt a slight tingling spreading throughout his body, like something welcoming him. There weren't any questions about the man being the real thing when he felt that. He would have to research to see if that was normal.

He scanned the appearance of the Professor, noting the weird clothing he wore immediately. They reminded him of bathroom robes, and he instantly remembered from the scarce fairy tales he had in the past that wizards and witches wore robes, which was probably what the Professor wore.

"Boy."

The gruff voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he came to a quick halt just inches before crashing onto Professor Snape. Glancing around quickly, he realized that they had entered an alley. He silently berated himself for not noticing his surroundings.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry knew that it would be his first step in doing something for himself. Holding himself respectfully, he straightened himself as he looked straight into the Professor's obsidian-black eyes.

"I would prefer if you don't call me boy, Professor. I do have a name," he said neutrally, his eyes flashing with slight displeasure at the reminder of his uncle.

The man scrutinized him for a moment, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. Still, he held his own, not once breaking his gaze into the man's eyes. He had his own share of being bullied, and he refused to be treated as such in the new world he was about to enter.

There was a short pause, before the Professor spoke again. "Very well. Potter, then."

Surprised, his eyes couldn't help but widen. He didn't really expect the Professor to acquiesce to his request. Remembering his manners, he gave a quick tilt of his head, replying softly, "Thank you, Professor."

As his eyes rose to meet the Professor's once again, he saw a flash of surprise in his eyes, though it had been so quick that he wondered if he had imagined it. Before he could harp on it though, Professor Snape's next words caught his attention.

"Potter, I will be apparating the both of us near to the Wizarding area known as Diagon Alley. It is an area hidden from the sight of Muggles. Do you know anything about apparating?"

Harry shook his head, giving a quick reply, "No sir, and…" he hesitated for a moment before blurting out curiously, "What's Muggles?"

The professor gave him a strange look, before continuing in his deep voice. "Muggles are non-magical folks, like the scum you live with. Apparating is the magic of moving from one place to another instantly. A useful skill, however, it is not a skill to be learnt until you are seventeen. It may feel uncomfortable to users unused to it."

Harry gave a quick nod, and before he could open his mouth to ask any questions, the Professor cut in. "If you understand, then we shall be on our way. I have no time or patience to deal with such matters, especially for brats like you."

Harry found that he didn't really mind neither the sneer placed on Professor Snape's face nor his cutting words. Somehow or another, he didn't find it offensive. Rather, he felt awfully familiar towards this man, or rather; the man seemed familiar to him. He almost snorted at the thought of it. He couldn't believe he thought that of a man he just met.

The Professor placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, and before he could react to the sudden touch, his whole body felt like being squeezed into a small pipe and spun around. He distinctly heard a loud crack announcing their sudden departure from the alley.

Harry was surprised at the familiar feeling of being squeezed. It was exactly what he felt during the few times he was being teleported away from danger. With another loud crack, a new scene appeared in front of him. He blinked a few times, trying to wait out the dizzy feeling he had in his head, and the nauseous feeling he had in the pit of his stomach.

When the world stopped turning, Harry glanced around. He thought he recognized the streets he was in – the newspapers he managed to steal from the Dursleys had lots of pictures.

With a start, he realized that he could no longer see the Professor. A flutter of black caught his attention, and when he turned his head around, he saw him striding around the corner.

Harry scowled deeply. There he thought Professor Snape was there to escort him, and yet there the Professor was, walking off on his own. "He's a real loner," he muttered, before realization hit him, and he whispered bitterly, "Then again, so am I."

Shaking his head slightly, he began to chase after the Professor.

--

"That's the entrance to the Wizarding World?" Harry questioned skeptically. That…run-down, shabby-looking, lopsided…entrance?

"As much as I hate to recognize that…deplorable-looking tavern as one of the entrances to the Wizarding World, it is still a yes to your question," he drawled.

"Well, alright. I suppose we should get going?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Wait." The warning tone in Professor Snape's voice stopped him. Raising an eyebrow curiously, Harry waited for him.

Severus paused for a while, contemplating if he should ask the boy, no Potter. He was rather surprised when the boy requested politely if he could be called by his name, rather expecting that the boy would demand it out rudely, habit from his delusions. It was as though…Potter didn't expect his request would be acquiesced to.

Another reminder of Potter's home life flashed in his mind, and he forcibly pushed it down to the depths again, for the umpteenth time.

"Professor?"

His attention snapped back to the waiting boy. He scowled when he saw the blasted ragged clothes of his. Despite the fact that he held no love for the boy, he still felt the urge to just push him into a clothing store and buy him anything that fits and was clean.

Sighing internally, Severus once again cursed Dumbledore. He hated this particular aspect of the job, especially when he had to deal with a Potter.

"What do you know about your past?"

Harry's eyes widened at the question, surprised that someone would offer the information.

"Nothing, sir."

Professor Snape sneered at his answer, though it wasn't directed at him.

"I expected no less. I didn't really think that the filthy Muggles would tell you, what with most of them being brainless. What did they tell you?"

A dark look flitted across Harry's face as he muttered, "Even if I were the world's biggest fool, I wouldn't believe what they told me."

Severus felt fury boiling within him as he heard Potter's next words, and it took all of his control to not turn back to the Dursley residence and murder them all.

"Petunia told me they died in a car crash, Vernon told me they died from overdose of drugs, and Dudley told me they committed suicide. Bloody people," Harry sneered, his face twisting into a taunting and bitter expression, marring the otherwise angelic looks.

Harry took a deep breath to curb the rising resentment welling within him, and before he could continue, Professor Snape cut in, speaking in a low, dangerous tone, his face twisted in an enraged snarl, voice full of venom. "Your mother had been the bravest woman I ever met, a mother you would have been proud to have. She sacrificed her life for you, and faced the Dark Lord with no fear. She died an honourable death, nothing like the…_committed suicide, _or _drug use _or even the _car crash_ your filthy relatives said to you."

Harry was startled at the passion and anger radiating from the man's body, dumbstruck at the furious expression now creeping into his face. He could practically feel the atmosphere tensing up, the air surrounding the both of them stilling.

Professor Snape seemed to be engrossed with his emotions as he hissed, "Your parents were murdered, Potter, murdered by the Dark Lord, who in turn was brought down by you. That's why you are famous as the Boy-Who-Lived." By that time, his eyes were blazing, slightly unfocused as he stared at the spot above Harry.

Needless to say, Harry was rather unnerved. He didn't think the cool, uncollected, and insulting Professor could turn into this…raging maniac instantly. He seriously wondered who his mother had been to him. Not that he would ask; he had a feeling that it was a forbidden topic.

Thinking on the Professor's rant, his eyes widened at the amount of information he received. Questions continuously flooded his mind as he thought about the information given to him. His parents were murdered by a… dark lord? Who was this dark lord? And, he brought this Lord down? How? Wasn't he just a child at that time?

"How?"

Harry's soft voice penetrated through the tense atmosphere, and instantly the Professor snapped back to his usual self, or even more closed-off than usual. He now had an icy, frigid aura around him as he stared at Harry neutrally, his eyes showing no emotions, no hint of whatever had raged within him a few seconds before.

"Your parents were killed by the Dark lord, and when the Dark lord cast the Killing curse on you, the curse rebounded, killing him in the process, and giving you that scar of yours. No one knows why, and it is because of that feat that you became famous. You brought down a megalomaniac who brought terror to the whole of the Wizarding population, and saved them from more deaths."

"What's this…Dark Lord's name?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side as he contemplated the answers given.

"His name is not freely spoken, Potter, and I will urge you to not do so in front of the masses. People call him You-Know-Who, but his name is Voldemort."

Harry nodded, before something struck him. 'I'm famous for something I haven't done? For being a murderer?' He then stopped and thought for a while, before questioning the Professor shrewdly.

"That's just the public story isn't it? Will you tell me the true story?"

Professor Snape glared at him, before his expression morphed into a blank stare, and he straightened himself, speaking coldly, "It is not my story to tell."

Harry narrowed his eyes, his fists clenched as anger flooded him. He couldn't believe what he had been told. It was his life story wasn't it! Shouldn't he be told of the complete truth? Before he could open his mouth and shout though, the Professor cut in with a harsh voice.

"Don't be impudent, brat. You will be just like that arrogant prick of your father if you assume the whole world would defer to you."

With that, Professor Snape drew his black robes around him tightly, before he whirled on his heels and headed back towards the Wizarding World entrance, his shoes clicking softly on the pavement.

Harry gaped after him, surprised at his words. It took a few seconds before he could think properly again and for his anger to ebb away.

His only thought left was, 'Does he happen to hate my father? It would actually explain the nasty attitude he has towards me…' He wondered confusedly. Then he gave a small laugh, his thoughts veering to another direction, 'Right, he's probably nasty to everyone.'

With that question in mind, he quickly followed the black-robed man who was already far ahead.

--

The tavern was crowded, everyone jostling each other, trying to make their way across. Noise erupted from everywhere, the loud laughter and incessant chatter sounding from every corner. The musty smell of beer, sweat and food lingered strongly in the air, causing Harry to nearly choke. He tried to draw himself into the shadows so as to not knock into anyone, but Professor Snape's voice stopped him.

"Walk straight ahead to the exit, Potter. I want to get out of this deplorable place as soon as possible."

Before he could take a step though, an energetic voice sounded somewhere near the Professor.

"Professor Snape! What great occasion is this, for you to climb out of that hole you live in?" Harry turned around to see a woman wearing deep blue robes sashaying towards them, giving a lopsided grin as she twirled a strand of her brown hair round her finger.

Professor Snape stiffened slightly, his expression cold and aloof as he spoke.

"Miss Finch. Although you are no longer my student, I would prefer it if you treat me with the same respect as you did when you were still studying." Amid all the noise in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Snape's voice had no problem cutting through the din. Smirking slightly, Harry thought, 'Point proven.'

The lady gave a shrug, batting a quick wink, before glancing over to Harry. Her brown eyes widened with surprise as she walked closer. Professor Snape gave her a look, making her wince slightly. Nonetheless, she continued her progress towards the both of them, stooping slightly as she stared carefully at Harry.

Harry simply stood his ground, his eyes now daring her to come closer, his stance turning defensive. As though getting the hint, the lady stopped in her tracks.

"Who do we have here? Your relative? He doesn't look like you though… Oh!" The last word came out in a scream of surprise, her finger rising to point at Harry, or rather his forehead, her face twisted in an expression of shocked surprise. Harry thought detachedly that surprise didn't suit the lady's looks – it made her look ugly.

Her scream, though, caught the notice of everyone nearby.

"H-Harry P-Potter!" A strangled scream erupted from her throat, her eyes now filled with burning devotion and admiration. Professor Snape stiffened and hissed lowly, "Shit."

As though the world stopped turning, silence suddenly filled the whole tavern, and everyone's heads turned to face the raven-haired boy. Harry bit his lip, his eyes flitting from left to right, trying to look for an escape. He didn't know what was going to happen, and he refused to take chances.

Cheers erupted. Harry blinked at the sudden influx of noise, reflexively covering his ears with his hands. He dimly heard his name being called again and again, gaining volume every time. 'Why in the world are they cheering my name – Oh,' Harry thought, a figurative light bulb popping up in his head.

He was famous in the Wizarding World. Famous for something he hadn't done, famous for being an orphan, famous for being a murderer, famous for losing his parents to an evil Lord. He was held up on a pedestal just because his mother sacrificed for him.

A sudden rage flooded him. He didn't deserve this fame. If anything, the fame should go to his parents, who protected him. He rather he had his parents than have that bloody fame. He would rather he wasn't an orphan, neglected and bullied by his relatives. He rather he had a loving family, who would believe in him, support him and love him.

A bitter feeling spread through him as they cheered louder and louder, all of them wearing excited smiles and delighted expressions. He didn't share the delight. He wanted this fame to go away. He wanted these people to go away.

He didn't need anymore reminders on how lonely a life he led.

When an over-enthusiastic wizard lunged forward to grab his hand in a handshake, he pulled back, his expression icy-cold and filled with hatred. His magic swept across the tavern, silencing almost all of the people in there, most of them shivering from the sudden wash of magic over them. Harry didn't seem to notice the effect he caused though, simply speaking icily.

"Excuse me. I'm busy."

Despite having a small frame, despite wearing tattered clothes and being untidy and dirty, Severus had to admit that Harry Potter looked regal and untouchable as he cut through the crowd with his head held high, eyes burning warningly. He left Leaky Cauldron by the exit heading towards Diagon Alley.

The untouchable aura, disgust and despise rolled off him, leaving even the most cheerful people in Leaky Cauldron wary and guilty for something they didn't know. The intoxicating power lingered in the air as Harry strode out, making many look dazedly around, some shuddering slightly.

As he hurried after him, he ignored the surprise he felt over Potter's rejection and hatred of the fame, and at the previous display of power.

He did not want to dwell on Potter's behaviour, especially when he acted so unGryffindorish from the moment he met him till then.

Neither did he want to think about the rather impressive scene in the tavern.

* * *

_Revised: 1/1/10_

**Review!!! Love ya if you review(:**

**-Myxa**


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. -sighs-**

**_Enjoy!_**

**Chapter 6**

Harry watched coldly as the barman tap the bricks in a practiced way. He vaguely memorized the way the barman tapped, dimly wondering what he was doing. Backing up a few steps, the barman gave him a toothed grin as he declared proudly, "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

He watched in surprise as the bricks moved away smoothly, revealing a passageway that was simply teeming with people. He felt the delight warring with his anger as he felt the bustling warmth from the people in the Alley.

At the corner of his eye, he saw the man taking a few steps back towards his tavern, his lips twitching in a tucked away smile, he secretly marveled the man's lack of comments as though nothing had just happened in his tavern a few minutes ago. Brushing that thought away, he focused his sight on the busy place before him.

Eying one of the shops nearby that sold something that looked like cauldrons, his interest was sparked. Feeling his rare adventurous spirit flicker to life, an idea sprang into his head, and he spun around to face the Professor who had hurried after him after the…scene he created in Leaky Cauldron.

Plastering a fake smile on and tilted his head sideways, asking in an innocent voice, smiling charmingly, "Sir. May I have your permission to explore this Alley on my own? I promise that I would meet you somewhere after I'm done."

He looked intently at Professor's Snape, his heart trying to suppress any hope just in case he would be let down by the snarky Professor. To his surprise, he gave a terse nod. Before Harry could head straight into the crowds, however, Professor Snape drawled, "Wait."

Before Harry could act, the Professor took his wand out and murmured a few words, flicking his wand in a simplistic motion. Harry nearly jumped when he saw his second-hand clothes turning into dark green robes.

Professor Snape nodded at his new appearance, the sides of his mouth tweaking up in a slight smirk when Harry shifted uncomfortably around, trying to get used to his new clothes.

"I shall meet you at this entrance later," the Professor stated firmly, and paused for a while before asking, "Do you need any money?"

Harry shook his head fervently and gave a brief, polite nod to him and said, "Thanks Professor, I'll meet you here in three hours time." With that, he turned around and sped down into the Alley.

Professor Snape finally let out the shiver he had been suppressing. He had been glad to let Potter leave on his own. After all he had seen, he had to admit that Harry Potter hadn't turned out like he expected him to. His lack of knowledge of even the most basic magical terms, the lack of a cocky attitude, it all points to the fact that the Muggles told him nothing of his magical heritage and his past.

However, the shocked look of Petunia when he arrived, the absolutely delighted expression of Potter when he introduced himself, the politeness and the way he held himself that reminded him of a well-practiced Lord, the ease at which he dealt with the nauseous feeling apparation brought about…

He was sure Harry Potter knew of his own magic and his Lord Potter status to some extent, and was Slytherin enough to hide it from his magic-hating relatives, and used it to his advantage.

He stopped that train of thoughts suddenly. He couldn't believe he nearly praised that brat. Slytherin enough? He shook his head internally. No. Harry Potter was the son of bloody James Potter, and was destined to become an arrogant Gryffindor just like his father. Nothing else.

'He most probably would start all his boasting and cocky behaviour once he knows of his fame,' Severus thought snidely.

He almost managed to dismiss Potter and his existence, but he suddenly remembered the scene Potter created in Leaky Cauldron…

The way his magic washed over the whole crowd; that wasn't normal. Hardly anyone, not to mention an eleven year old magical child could do that, in fact, he only knew of a few people who could let loose their magic to this extent.

People were usually only able to keep their magic within themselves, and for it to be used outside of their body, a wand is usually used to help direct and focus their magic. To be able to bring it out of their bodies and let it loose; the wizard had to be either very powerful, or had excellent focus.

He shuddered again at the thought of that intoxicating magic caressing his skin, so tainted with darkness and all sorts of negative emotions, so wild with its power and yet restrained and controlled by its user so that it won't destroy everything it touches.

He dimly wondered if Potter was actually a Dark wizard, before banishing that ludicrous thought quickly; Potter was a Light wizard. All the darkness he felt must be due to his anger.

He paused for a while when a thought struck him, and he blinked, thinking back. Restrained and controlled? His eyes widened slightly, as realization hit him hard. That wasn't accidental magic. Potter didn't just know about the existence of his magic, or knew how to deal with accidental magic, or had excess amounts of magic. He knew how to wield it.

Merlin.

--

Harry took in a deep breath, his eyes scanning the noisy crowd. A wistful smile flickered over his face as he saw a child tugging on his mother's hand, his face screwed up in an adorable pout as he pointed relentlessly towards a toy.

His smile faded as he walked off. The cheering in the Leaky Cauldron still rang in his ears, making him clench his fist in irritation. He supposed he couldn't blame them. He did, technically speaking, removed their Dark Lord for them. He figured that the wizards and witches are simply looking up to him because he was _there. _

But it just wasn't fair. They were pathetic for depending on a small boy, pinning all their hopes on him when they were most likely far more powerful and well-trained themselves. If they wanted a God, they won't get it. He came to this world hoping to create a new life for himself, not to have another life pushed onto him.

He took a deep breath, and tried to wrestle down the magic that was struggling to emerge again. He couldn't believe he had nearly let loose of all his magic just because he was mad.

He knew perfectly well what kind of affect it had on people; he had tested it on Dudley as an experiment before when he first discovered his magic, wondering what powers he had, and the side-effects he saw were…

Well, shuddering like a drug-addict suffering from withdrawal symptoms wasn't really a pretty picture. At least that's what Harry thought it had looked like. It had taken Dudley a few days to recover, and the Dursleys had spent about hundreds of dollars bringing him to doctors trying to figure out what's wrong with him.

Though, judging by the previous situation, he supposed his powers had more of an influence of Muggles. Either that or he didn't really let loose that much of his magic.

Giving a sigh, Harry made a mental note to stay calm in the future.

A loud squeal caught his attention, snapping him from his thoughts. Turning around, his curiosity was sparked when he saw a group of people crowding around a glass window. Curiosity sparked, he immediately headed towards there, thinking that it would be the perfect spot to start his exploration of Diagon Alley.

He casted all the negative thoughts aside; he was set to enjoy himself.

A thought suddenly struck him, and he stopped in his tracks. He groaned internally as he thought of his scar. It was clear that he was noted for his lightning-shaped scar. He hastily combed his unruly hair over where the scar was, hoping it would do for now. He hoped that if one didn't look closely, they wouldn't notice.

Who in those large crowds would notice a small boy out on his own, anyway?

--

Harry gaped when he finally managed to see what all those people had been goggling at. He could feel figurative question marks popping in his head as he stared at the exact thing, or at least, the more old-fashioned thing that he had been using for the earlier part of his life.

A broomstick. Are wizards and witches nuts? What has a broomstick got to do with anything? Did they love to sweep the floor or something?

"It looks so brilliant! I wish Daddy would buy for me," the boy behind him gushed, eyes wide as he traced the broomstick from tip to toe.

"I heard that it's the fastest broom on the market now! Can you believe it? I so want to ride on it!" Another boy exclaimed. Harry swore he was swooning.

"I wish I could ride on it… It must be so wonderful to fly fast on that broom," the girl next to him sighed, her eyes glued onto the broomstick.

Raising his eyebrow, Harry glanced at the broomstick again. 'Nimbus 2000…' he mused, 'This thing can fly? Cool. I never thought that wizards and witches can really fly using broomsticks…'

Shrugging, he turned around and headed towards the entrance of the shop. Looking up, he noted the sign, 'Quality Quidditch Supplies'. He dimly wondered if Quidditch was some kind of sport they played with brooms.

He knew how crazy people could get with sports. After all, his sleep had often or not been interrupted by the cheering of the male Dursleys when their favourite team scored a goal.

Opening the door, the bell tinkled, revealing the interior of the shop. Harry blinked as he saw the amount of people squeezed within the shop. Carefully, he stepped in and maneuvered himself through the crowd, hoping to get to the other end.

"_Mum! I want that Nimbus 2000! I don't want this Comet 60! It's so slow!" _

"_I want that Snitch, now!"_

"_Please, Dad, please? I really want that Cleansweep."_

"_I don't care if it's expensive! Just buy it for me!"_

Harry inwardly sneered as he heard those conversations; they reminded him of Dudley. That's one of the reasons why he hated most children – they were too immature.

Hastily erasing those negative thoughts, he took a look around, marveling at all the specially-crafted broomsticks. Wondering how it would feel like to fly on them, he squeezed through the crowds and moved towards a broomstick on display, and closed his hand around it, gripping it tight.

He gasped when he suddenly felt a rushing feeling through him. Distantly, he heard screams of joy and a lifting feeling, as though he was flying. His hair was felt like it was being ruffled by a strong gust of wind. He had never felt so free or happy before.

As quick as it came, the feelings and sounds left him, leaving him feeling dazed and confused for a moment. He could feel his magic flooding through him, making him feel exhilarated, powerful and liberated.

He clenched his hands to stop the trembling, his thoughts in a mess as he pressed one hand against his chest, feeling his racing heart.

'What was that all about?' he thought, slightly panicked.

"Cleansweep? You've poor taste," a voice suddenly sounded beside him, startling him. Harry turned, only to meet a pair of haughty grey eyes.

The boy stood regally, his blond hair swept back neatly and stylishly. His pale skin contrasted with his dark blue robes beautifully, giving him an angelic appearance, though the aloof expression he wore made him look cold and distant like a statue. His robes were skillfully made, with gold threads intertwined with the blue along the hems; different from all the normal robes he saw on people walking on the streets. He was the epitome of style.

The half-smirk the boy wore was calculating as he looked at Harry, making him wary. Harry was sure that this boy was rich, or belonged to an influential family. Wondering what that boy wanted to do with him, he kept silent, hoping that he would speak up.

Subconsciously, he straightened his back and relaxed his stance, his chin tilting slightly up in imitation of the boy in front of him. He kept a wary eye on the boy, though he made sure his body language was friendly. He kept a polite smile on his face, planning to test waters. He hated to make enemies that he didn't need, and making an enemy out of a boy who was obviously rich was not smart. The boy had a hidden smirk as approval set into his eyes.

"Why don't you look at the other better brands? Nimbus for example. Cleansweeps are so…ugh," the boy drawled, flapping his hands in a dismissive way as he started the conversation. "I don't understand why people like to shop for cheap brands like Cleansweeps. Even Comets are better than them."

His hands made a sweeping gesture over the crowd in the shop, his face pinched in a sneer as he made depreciating comments. Startled at his behavior, Harry forced back a laugh, all the while thinking that that boy was like a lady, picky over stuff.

The boy must have noticed Harry's expression though, as he demanded icily, "What are you laughing at?"

Harry hastily swallowed down his laughter, unwilling to offend the wizard he just met. "Oh, nothing really. I don't really get what's the big deal about broomsticks. Will you tell me?"

Shock filtrated through the cold mask the boy wore, and he almost shouted as he questioned, "What? Do you even know they are used to play Quidditch, the greatest sport on Earth?" Harry was lucky that the shop was crowded, or else it would have been embarrassing.

"What?" Harry was sure that his face was burning red now. He hated to not know what people were talking about; it made him look stupid.

The blond narrowed his eyes at him, his expression suddenly turning nasty as he tilted his head up arrogantly and glared at him. He stepped back a few steps as though offended.

"You don't happen to be a Mudblood, are you? I thought you might be a pureblood, being allowed to go out on your own. Apparently I'm wrong."

Throwing a perplexed look at the boy, Harry cocked his head slightly to the side as he pondered what the boy had just said. Mudblood? Pureblood?

Biting his lip, Harry hesitated. Should he ask? It would be showing weakness, but he really didn't want to be left in the dark. Sighing, Harry gave in. "I'm afraid I really don't get what you mean. I've lived with my Muggle relatives all my life, only knowing that I'm a wizard till today. My parents were magical though, according to Professor Snape."

The boy looked stunned for a moment, before rearing back as though hit by something, realization dawning in his eyes. His eyes flicked up to Harry's forehead before meeting his eyes again. Nervously laughing, Harry reached up and patted his hair over his scar, hoping that he wouldn't see.

The boy stared blankly at Harry; conflicting emotions of uncertainty and doubt were seen clearly in his eyes, though they were carefully hidden from his face. If Harry had not been good in observing people, he doubted that he would be able to spot those emotions.

After a few moments, the boy opened his mouth and said, "Professor Snape? Severus? Well…if he says you're parents are magical, they most probably are." The tentative tone in his voice was clear, and he said the words as though it was hurt him.

He continued to stare at Harry, making him feel uncomfortable. When Harry began to shift from one leg to another and avert his eyes, the boy seemed to have thought of something.

Suddenly gasping, his hand flew to his mouth. Startled, Harry stiffened. Light returned to his eyes as he exclaimed, "You said you've been living with Muggles all your life? Oh Merlin, you poor thing."

"Well, yes. Poor me," he muttered bitterly in reflex.

The boy now looked at him in slight surprise, as though not expecting him to agree. He held a contemplating gaze as he looked at Harry, making him look down at the floor to escape the penetrating stare. The dirty spot seemed to be extremely interesting at that moment.

The boy suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Harry by his arm, making him jump in surprise. The boy's eyes softened as he looked down at Harry. Distantly, he noted that the troubled face the boy had worn had disappeared.

"Let me bring you about Diagon Alley. There are loads of fun things to explore! I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy, by the way," he cheerfully stated, his cold look immediately changing into a delighted one, as he tugged his new-found friend along.

"I'm…" Harry paused, thinking if he should tell Draco.

"I know you're Harry Potter. Severus only brought out one boy, and that's you. It doesn't matter who you are, as long as you are interested in Quidditch. You should be! It is the greatest sport! Pity none of my friends like it. You like it, don't you?" Draco rambled on, his hands flying everywhere as he spoke. He looked expectantly at Harry when he ended.

Giving a sheepish look, Harry mumbled, pointing a finger at himself, "Brought up by Muggles, remember?"

Draco clapped a hand to his mouth, his eyes horrified as the memory struck him. "Oh! Right. You're such a poor thing, having to stay with those filthy beings. Well, I'll explain everything!"

Harry burst out laughing at Draco's enthusiasm. He supposed that Draco was different from his exterior image; just like him.

Allowing himself to be tugged along with him, Harry wondered why he was making friends with a stranger so easily. It didn't really make sense, since he was often reclusive and hostile to any strangers.

As he watched Draco continuing to explain all the mechanics of the Wizarding World, Harry smiled, feeling something akin to happiness well up in his chest. It didn't matter if he was acting strange. He had found his first human friend, after all.

--

"Wait, Draco. I want to take a look at the bookstore. Is it that one over there?" Harry suddenly said, pointing over to a shop with a sign that stated Flourish and Blotts, where stacks of books piled up near the windows could be seen from the outside. Draco glanced at it, and nodded.

"That's the bookstore, though I don't get why you would want to read books. They are boring," he replied, his face screwing into a scowl.

Harry chuckled, replying, "I don't like to read too, but it is the only place where I will get any information. You don't know everything I need to know anyway. Do you want to come?"

Draco scowled and shook his head fervently. "I will wait for you at Fortescue's alright?"

"Fortescue's?" Harry questioned curiously.

"That's the ice-cream parlour. It's over there," Draco replied breezily, already heading towards that direction.

Harry nodded, and made a shooing action with his hands. Draco flashed a grin before rushing over. 'That ice-cream must be good. I don't think Draco would accept anything substandard,' Harry mused.

Whirling on his heels, Harry stepped towards Flourish and Blotts. He didn't have any money, but he could just browse through. He discreetly pulled up the hem of his robes so that he wouldn't step on them; those robes were pretty hard to get used to.

"Oh Merlin, please stop throwing those books! Those aren't toys!" A near-hysterical shout greeted him when he opened the door.

Deftly catching the book that was thrown in his direction, Harry glared at the offending children; they seemed to be seven or eight. One of the boys who threw that book poked his tongue out at the distraught salesman, before running out of the store, pushing Harry to one side.

Annoyed, Harry took a deep breath and concentrated, searching within himself for his magic. He felt his magic reacting, and the boy's shoelaces rose and tangled up together. Harry choked back a laugh when the boy gave a squeal before falling flat on his face.

Chuckling, he passed the book back to the man, taking the opportunity to ask, "Are there any books relating to magic?"

The man's face lit up, and nodded, pointing enthusiastically towards one shelf. "You're the second one who asked for such books today. The girl who asked before you should be still inside. You should get along well with her." With that, he winked, walking off whistling a jaunty tune.

Harry scowled lightly, wanting to strangle the man. He was only eleven! He walked towards the shelf the man had pointed to, while the small voice in his head suggested several creative ways to murder him. He did not appreciate being told what to do.

Turning round the corner, he spotted the bushy-haired girl first. His eyes narrowed at the clothes she was wearing – Muggle clothing. Harry growled internally at the sight of her, his blood boiling as he remembered his treatment while living the Dursleys and the relentless gossip and insults of his neighbours.

He knew he was being childish, for judging her by the actions of the Muggles he had known, but one thing he agreed with Draco was that Muggles were narrow-minded. They rather destroy than accept anything unnatural like magic. Who knows if this girl was as nasty as the rest of the Muggles, what with her being brought up like a Muggle.

Edging away from her, Harry stayed at the farthest end before grabbing a book. Flipping it open, he immediately noticed the title for the first chapter. Magic.

'_The creation of a human has two parts – body and soul, both of which are interconnected, yet independent, able to exist alone, yet stronger when they are together. The body is the shell in which the soul and magic resides, the flesh in which protects the human. The soul is the spirit of the person, where things that define the person, like the personality, memories, magic are contained._

_Personality of a person remains unique to every soul, and no one is exactly the same as the other. It is usually molded by circumstances and the people around._

_Memories can never be fully erased, but it can be blocked or shattered, which is what the Memory charms do. Obliviate, for example, actually blocks one's memories, and it is possible for the block to be removed if the caster was weak in magical power. The difference in blocking memories and shattering them is that, when blocking, the victim no longer has any form of recollection, while when shattering, the victim might or might not remember little pieces of information, especially emotional memories._

_Magic is an integral part of the soul. All beings have magic, be it animals, plants or humans, both Muggles and Wizards. The only difference between Muggles and Wizards is that Wizards are able to tap on their magic and use them in a form of energy, while Muggles are unable to have access to it.'_

Harry looked up when he felt someone tapping him on his shoulder. Seeing the girl, he acted out of reflex. Pursing his lips, he asked icily, his tone on the edge of hostility. "What?"

The girl seemed to be startled at his tone, before her brown eyes narrowed and she huffed bossily, "Don't be so rude! I'm merely asking if you would like to read this book. I noticed that you are reading up on magic too, so I assume you're new, like me. This book is great on details of how magic work. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

Disgust filled him uncontrollably. Did that girl think that she could control him? Clenching his fists tightly, he pulled himself up from his leaning position and sneered at her, stating, "What makes you think I need your help? I can read up on my own."

His whole mind and heart totally rejected the girl, which he attributed to her heritage. He might have wanted to try making friends, but it definitely didn't include people fully related to Muggles. He narrowed his eyes at her, his whole body radiating unfriendliness.

"What's with your arrogant attitude? I'm just trying to help. You should know as much as you can before you go to Hogwarts!" she hissed irately, flicking her bushy hair away from her eyes as she glared at Harry.

Harry glared back, the hostility he felt made him rash, and he immediately rebutted, spouted words without thinking. "I don't need help from a Muggleborn, or a know-it-all," his insulting tone emphasizing his words.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry was shocked inwardly. He couldn't believe he just said that. Growing up with people like the Dursleys left him more sensitive towards the behaviours and attitudes of other people. He hardly ever said anything out of spite to people who didn't do a thing to him.

Regret filled him as he saw her deflate rather dejectedly.

She bit her lip and averted her eyes, taking a few steps back. The misery in her eyes was clear though, making Harry's heart clench as he silently berated himself for saying such stuff. It was clear that the girl hated such names. Faint memories of being taunted and scolded rose up in his mind, and he hastily squashed them down.

He saw tears welling up in her eyes as she looked up and suddenly felt a little guilty. She growled, "I…I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to interrupt, but you don't have to be so mean. What do you mean by you don't need a Muggleborn's help? Everyone's equal! Why do you have to be so prejudiced against us? We eat, sleep, study, we do all the same things as you people! Stop being so hostile just because I'm a Muggleborn. As for being a know-it-all, I can't help it, alright?"

She ended her speech on a hysterical note, her eyes wide as she stared at Harry, her bushy hair getting frizzy while her whole frame trembled uncontrollably. She was breathing quickly, her chest heaving up and down, her clothes all disheveled. Fear flickered in her eyes, and Harry recognized it for what it was.

The dejected, furious and scared look she had on her face reminded Harry all too clearly of himself, when he had been bullied, when he had been rejected from play groups and when he was insulted.

He would have walked away from her, but that look stopped him. He wouldn't wish such feelings on anyone, even if she was a Muggleborn.

Harry hesitated before reaching towards her and grasping her shoulder gently, pausing when she flinched. His tone was gentle as he spoke, the apologetic feeling he felt seeping into his words.

"Umm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like it is. Ok, so maybe I did for the Muggleborn part. Please forgive me. I…" he had to stop there, and he took a deep breath. He didn't want to say out his whole life story to just anyone out there, but he figured he owed the girl an explanation.

Bracing himself, he spoke again, glazing over the truth. "I'm an orphan, while my relatives whom which take care of me are Muggles, and, well, they aren't really accepting of magic. I…just let my prejudice and spite get hold of me, I suppose."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to call you a know-it-all. You're just being hardworking and willing to learn, and that isn't a crime."

Harry smiled when she looked into his eyes, searching for something. The misery left her face after a few moments, replaced by slight reassurance. Glad that she cheered up, and feeling less guilty, Harry added the last sentence cheekily in an attempt to make her lighten up, "Plus actually, I admire such qualities, because I personally lack them."

She rolled her eyes, and huffed at him playfully, "I suppose I can forgive you. It isn't your fault to live with such idiotic relatives anyway."

Narrowing her eyes, she added in threateningly, "Though I won't forgive you if you insult me in that way ever again."

Harry burst out laughing, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he said, "Well, I won't forgive myself either."

She paused for a while, before her whole face blushed as she asked shyly, "Can we be friends?"

Seeing Harry's shocked face, she hastily added with a pained face, "It's okay if you don't want to be though, it's really fine. I'm used to be without friends, anyway."

Harry looked at the now fumbling girl, his heart warming as he decided that perhaps befriending a Muggleborn wasn't that bad. After all, she seemed different from any of the Muggles he had met and was rather similar to himself.

It wasn't to say that he could overcome his prejudice towards Muggles in an instant, but he had a feeling that Hermione would grow on him. No, to be honest, he would still hate Muggles and anything related to them, but he supposed Hermione could be an exception.

Giving a light smile, Harry replied, "I would love to be your friend." He squashed any lingering doubt and objection within him.

As Hermione looked at him with a stunned face, he felt that he was right to think that the Wizarding World held a new life for him.

No longer was he going to be oppressed and be pushed around, he could finally act and do things for himself. He would have friends, knowledge, fun and everything that was entitled to him in the first place.

Though…there was a problem. How was he going to explain to Draco about his new-found Muggleborn friend?

* * *

_Revised: 1/1/10_

**REVIEW!! Leave a review, yeah?**

**- Myxa**


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does NOT belong to me. It belongs to the lady named J.K Rowling.**

**_Have fun reading!_**

**Chapter 7**

He ignored the squealing of the tires as the car backed out into the roads, ignored the complaints Dudley were making and ignored Vernon's constant glares at him. Instead, he kept fingering his wand, keeping his focus on it, not that it was that hard.

His shopping in Diagon Alley had been…interesting to say in the least.

_Harry stared wide-eyed at Mr. Ollivander, trepidation filling him as the man scrutinized him. He was never scared of anyone. Never. Not the Dursleys, not his neighbours, not Professor Snape, not anyone, but this man was seriously scaring him._

"_I wondered when I would be seeing you, Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander murmured lowly, his eyes taking on a glint that Harry didn't like at all. _

"_Seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands," he continued, now turning around to rummage in the shelf beside him for wands._

_Harry gulped, eyes now glancing around the room. He decided quickly that __**very**__ old man was weird. No wonder Professor Snape opted to stay outside of the shop._

"_Try this," Mr. Ollivander whispered, offering the wand. Reaching towards it, Harry was paused when he felt his own magic reacting, strongly rejecting it. He immediately retracted his hand, unwilling to offend his magic. Meeting Mr. Ollivander's curious gaze, he shook his head fervently._

_He hesitated for a moment, before walking around the counter, towards the inner regions of the shop. He didn't like to bring attention to himself, and he knew that this action would definitely spark Mr. Ollivander's interest. Still, he couldn't help himself. It had been calling him, ever since he stepped into the store._

_He could feel his magic spiking, reaching towards the unknown thing, and Harry knew he just had to get it. He couldn't ignore his wand's call. He was sure that it was his._

_Maneuvering himself along the narrow corridor, he stopped at one particular box, lying innocently on the shelf slightly above him. There was no hesitation when he reached towards it and opened the box, grasping the wand that lay within._

_Harry closed his eyes as he felt his magic acknowledging the wand, caressing him as it hummed its pleasure. _

_He had never felt accepted like that. The wand fit him, both his heart and soul. It called to his magic and allowed his magic to twirl around it playfully, delight filling him as he fingered the wand._

_He let out a smile when he realized how right the wand was for him. Turning around, he headed back towards the front of the shop, only to meet Mr. Ollivander who was smiling creepily._

"_Seems like I am not wrong," he said mysteriously, before gesturing to the box, an interested gleam entering his eyes. "May I see it?"_

_Eying the odd man warily, Harry handed it over carefully. _

"_Nice and supple. Eleven inches, holly, and Phoenix feather as a core…Curious, curious…" Mr. Ollivander murmured softly, his eyes thoughtful as he fingered the wand. _

"_Sorry, but what's curious?" Harry blurted out, unable to stop his curiosity. Surely there wasn't a problem with his wand, was there?_

"_I remember every wand that I sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens, that the Phoenix, whose tail feather resides in your wand, gave another feather. Just one other. It's curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother, gave you that scar."_

_Harry felt his heart clench slightly, fear seeping in. His wand was the brother to the Dark Lord's wand? That had to be no coincidence. 'Why in the world is my life so complicated?' he groaned internally._

_Hesitatingly, he asked, "And who owned that wand?"_

"_We do not speak his name. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why, but I think it is clear, that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, but great."_

_Part of Harry wanted to laugh at that weird name they gave to the Dark Lord, though most of his attention was on his wand. He could still feel his magic humming contentedly as he reached over for his wand._

_He would just have to dig for answers, he supposed, about the Dark Lord. If Professor Snape wouldn't be such a clam…_

In the end, he did pry a few answers out of the Professor, albeit not much, but it was at least something.

Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Death Eaters. The Dark Lord after Grindelwald. Struck fear in the Wizarding population. Torture and murder. Believed in pureblood supremacy.

He slowly turned the pieces of information in his head, trying to imagine what kind of lord Voldemort had been. What he couldn't really understand was why Voldemort chose to attack the Potters.

Pureblood supremacy, well, it was true that his mother was a Muggleborn, but his father was a Pureblood. Furthermore, he was sure Voldemort was not so free as to personally attack their family.

Harry gave a sigh, bringing his fingers up to rub at his aching temples. The trip to Diagon Alley hadn't really answered much, and had in fact given him much more mysteries about himself.

Till then, he could still feel the penetrating gaze of the goblins when he stepped into the Gringotts bank. He still wondered what wrong he did to warrant such scrutiny.

He could feel another headache pounding in.

_He eyed cautiously at the similar creatures standing at the side, hastily making his way in. His instincts told him that they were safe, but his brain told him that they were unknown creatures. _

_He was in the bank. Gringotts, which was controlled by goblins, Professor Snape had said._

_He blinked in surprise when he entered the hall. The goblins lined the sides of halls, sitting behind huge wooden desks, their expressions mostly fierce. Looking around, Harry briskly followed the Professor who was already far ahead._

_Professor Snape strode purposefully to the most centre desk that was propped higher than the rest. Stopping in front of it, the goblin scribbled something before looking up with a neutral expression to face Professor Snape. Harry managed to catch up in time to hear the Professor speak the last part of the phrase._

"…_and I'm here to open the vault of Harry James Potter."_

_Something seemed to spark in the goblin's eyes, and he spared a glance at the Professor, before turning his sight onto Harry. Harry nearly squirmed as he was under the goblin's scrutiny. His instincts, however, told him to stand still and proud, and he did so, even returning a steady gaze at the goblin._

_The few moments under his gaze had seemed eternity, but Harry could have sworn he saw approval set in his eyes. He turned back towards the Professor, and asked in a deep, growling voice._

"_Key?"_

_Professor Snape nodded curtly, immediately placing the small rusty object onto the table._

_Picking the key up, the goblin examined it carefully. His eyes flicked up to glance at the both of them again, before pushing himself off his seat with a grunt, stalking ominously towards the large wooden door at the other side of the room. _

_Without hesitation, the Professor followed. Harry, watching from behind, rather thought that they looked rather similar with their cloaks billowing behind them._

_They were led through a door and into a tunnel, revealing rusty tracks and several carts. The goblin opened the side door of one of the carts, gesturing for the both of them to get in. Harry clambered in, wondering where they were heading towards._

_The cart rattled off, swinging dangerously as it rushed into the darkness. Harry's eyes widened in delight, his fingers clutching onto the sides for safety._

_He nearly wanted to scream in exhilaration as the cart practically flew through the tunnels. Hopping off the cart reluctantly when the trip ended, Harry found himself face to face with a humongous door. _

_He was prodded along by the Professor, and had no time to gape at the wealth he had before they were on their way again. He had never seen so much money in his life. He could still see the gold, silver and bronze sparkling in his mind. If he had his way, he would use all the money to leave the Dursleys as soon as possible._

_He could almost hear himself cackling gleefully in his mind._

_The cart swung precariously near the edge as it turned, before coming to a quick halt at another vault. Vault 713, the goblin had announced._

_Looking questioningly at his Professor, Harry was opening his mouth to ask when silenced by Professor Snape's glare. Motioning him to stay behind in the cart, Professor Snape gave another warning glower before heading towards the vault._

_Harry nearly wanted to pout. Nearly. Instead, he settled with a defiant stare behind the Professor's back, slumping into his seat. He craned his neck slightly to see what was going on, and was only rewarded with a glimpse of the Professor stuffing a small bag into his robes. _

_It was safe to say that Harry's curiosity was sparked. Still, he knew better than to question the Professor. 'He would probably snap and glare and bark at me,' Harry thought bitingly._

_The Professor returned with a rather somber expression as he climbed into the seat. Harry held his tongue as he watched the Professor's hand disappearing into his robes. With another dangerous-sounding rattle, the cart was off again._

_As they left the tunnel, the goblin stopped at the doorway. The Professor had walked out as though he had owned the place, which made Harry hesitate for a moment. Something within him made him turn around, and when the goblin gave him a curious look, he tilted his head slightly, murmuring the words that popped up in his head. "May the goblin nation forever prosper."_

_The goblin's eyes widened for a moment, before his mouth tweaked up in a very, very slight grin. _

_Tilting his head, he replied, "May you, Mr. Potter, forever prosper too."_

_Harry bit his lip, and nodded, turning around to hurry after the Professor._

_If he had turned around, he would have seen that behind him, the goblin had let out a smirk, his eyes glittering knowledgeably as he said lowly, "Good luck with your endeavour, Lord Potter."_

Harry still wasn't sure why he spoke that particular sentence, and wasn't sure if he regretted it. It seemed right, somehow. At least the goblin had not seemed offended.

"Get out, boy!" the demanding voice snapped him out of his thoughts. With a start, Harry realized that they were already at their destination – King's Cross Station. Swinging himself out of the car, he quickly hoisted his luggage and started to make his way into the station, not once sparing a glance back at his relatives.

"Don't you think of coming back so soon, boy!" Vernon growled gruffly as Harry shut the car door behind him.

"Who in their right mind would return to that hellhole anytime soon?" Harry muttered irritably, his temper getting worse as he struggled with the whole load of luggage. All the textbooks, cauldrons, robes and whatnot were awfully heavy. Not to mention the owl, Hedwig, that was heavier than it seemed.

It had been a present from Draco, who had termed it as a gift to celebrate their first meeting. Harry wondered how many gifts he would receive at that rate.

Squeezing through the crowd, Harry's eyes lit up when he saw a group of magical folk standing by a pillar. It wasn't particularly hard to notice them; wearing those long robes definitely counts them out for any stealth mission in Muggle neighborhoods.

All of them were redheads, all of their robes seemingly old and patched. He grinned when he saw twins among them; twins always seemed fun to him.

Approaching the group of people, Harry was surprised at their loud and boisterous behavior. Most of them were laughing loudly, one of them even waving his wand about. He would have thought that they would be at least a little more discreet in their actions in the public.

He hesitated for a moment, pondering if he should approach them and ask where in the world was the Platform. Nine and Three Quarters? It didn't make any sense whatsoever.

Before he could decide though, they had moved towards the pillar beside them, and one by one, they ran through the wall. Without a crash.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and he nearly gaped. Smacking himself internally for his stupidity, he gave a sigh when he remembered the wonders of magic. Trudging forward, he gave an apprehensive glance at the very solid-looking wall.

Moving himself so that he was standing in front of the pillar, Harry took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly, all the while thinking that he would murder the person who thought of that method to get onto the platform.

With a quick sprint, he rushed towards the pillar, hoping that he wouldn't crash and make a laughing stock out of himself.

And he was through.

Harry forced himself not to gape at the gleaming red train, instead to rush towards its entrance. He preferred not to be left behind, judging by the warning hoot of the train.

With a swing of his luggage and a screech from Hedwig, he got up the train. With a turn on his heels, he immediately walked down the corridors. Glancing around, he realized that all the compartments were full; until he reached the second last.

He quickly moved in, hoisting his luggage and Hedwig up the rack. About to slump into the comfortable-looking seats, he gasped as he suddenly remembered something. He turned around again and reached up to the side-pocket of his luggage, and a tug on the zipper revealed a whole string of curses. In parseltongue.

"_Damn you, Potter! It's so freaking hot and stuffy in there! How dare you –_"

Harry gave a chuckle at Eros' rambling curses as he sat down, opting to stroke her on her head as he placed her on his lap, not rising up to any of her vicious curses. Eros immediately deflated, curling her tail languidly as she hissed in pleasure. She was _so _easy to please at times.

The both of them sat in silence for a few moments, before Eros asked, _"You nervous?"_

Casting a look at the snake, he replied neutrally, _"I'm not,"_

"_You lie. I can sense your anxiety," _Eros murmured drowsily, her head lying heavily on Harry's lap; his petting was making her feel much too comfortable.

"_Well then, what's the point of asking if you already knew?" _Harry retorted, a little uncomfortable in revealing his true feelings, though he knew that Eros always knew. He swore she had a lie detector hiding in her somewhere.

"_Fun,"_ Eros replied bluntly, not even bothering to look up.

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned to face the window. The train had just started moving.

"_Well, there's a boy heading in our direction," _Eros said suddenly.

"_What?!" _Harry spluttered in surprise. He grabbed Eros and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket, ignoring Eros' yelp. _"Shush, you!"_ Harry hissed warningly when Eros' curses began to increase in volume, and in creativity.

He didn't know how different wizards would behave in front of a snake, but he believed that it won't be much different from Muggles. Screams, shouts and loads of flailing involved, he would guess.

The door slid open just as Eros finally shut up, revealing a red haired boy.

His blue eyes glanced around nervously as he shifted his weight between his legs. Noticing Harry, he asked rather uncertainly as he pulled his luggage a little closer.

"Er… Can I come in? The rest of the compartments are mostly full, and er, I don't want to hang out with my brothers so…" he trailed off, his eyes hopeful as he stared at Harry. Harry recognized him immediately; he was one of the wizards in front of the pillar in King's Cross.

He was sorely tempted to chuck the boy out right then. He wanted his privacy to calm his jitters and perhaps a nice chat with Eros, and having a stranger there kind of ruled all of that out. Still, he supposed that throwing a boy out of the window, as much as it was worth some laughs, wasn't the best way to start relationships in Hogwarts. Who knew if the boy would be useful?

He forced a slight smile at the obviously nervous boy, gesturing towards the seat opposite him. Nodding encouragingly, he replied, "Sure. Come in."

He hoped that the boy wouldn't bother him too much.

Walking into the compartment, Harry sat himself beside the window – the furthest he could get from the door. He prayed that the boy would take the initiative to sit near the door. He nearly groaned when the boy flopped on the seat opposite him with a lack of grace.

"My name's Ron. Ronald Weasley, actually, but call me Ron," the redhead said, beaming as he began to bounce about, before commenting, "These seats are real comfortable, aren't they?"

Harry barely had the time to give a reply, not that he wanted to, when the boy – Ron – continued on, rambling about some nonsensical stuff, his hands waved about dangerously as his spit too, hit treacherously near the seat opposite him.

Grumbling internally about his bad luck to meet someone that uncouth, Harry unconsciously flicked the irritating piece of hair that covered his eyes away. He didn't notice that Ron suddenly froze with that action, his mouth falling open as he stared at Harry, his eyes wide.

"Bloody hell," an awed whisper, filled with disbelief, blurted out from his mouth after a few moments.

Harry casted a curious look at him, wondering what he was gasping about. Dread pooled at the pit of his stomach when he realized where Ron was staring at. His scar – the proof that he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived or whatever hell they called him.

"You're bloody hell Harry Potter, aren't you," Ron asked softly, the reverent tone in his voice clear.

Harry stiffened as the truth was confirmed, his eyes turning hard as he drew himself up. Anger surrounded him like a cloak, making him look scary even if he was wearing tattered and worn clothes. Glaring coldly at Ron, he asked in a growling tone, a thread of warning under his voice, "Yes."

He seemed to be unperturbed by that glare and uncaring of all the warning signs. Then again, perhaps he was already not noticing his surroundings, Harry thought, judging by the glazed look he had in his eyes. He could almost see stars zooming about in there.

"That's…wow. You're really Harry Potter?" he asked dumbly, his eyes still glittering with awe. His brain seemed to be no longer working as he continued to gape at Harry.

Harry forced a nod. Very soft hisses of _"Patience, patience, no murder, no murder… Oh he smells nice, can I eat him?"_ floating from his pocket kept his temper down, and he made do with grating his teeth instead.

"That's just incredible!" Ron shouted excitedly, "I've always wanted to meet you. Is it true you really defeated the Dark Lord? Or that you have super powers?"

Harry felt his temper rising at Ron's words despite his efforts to control it. He didn't know anything about his past, but still he knew without a doubt that the rumors that spouted from Ron's mouth were rubbish. Defeated the Dark Lord just like that? He was sure that the Dark Lord wouldn't be defeated by a small baby, for God sake! And super powers? Bah.

"I wish I could be like you, you are so freaking famous in the Wizarding World, you know?"

Harry looked like he swallowed something sour at those words. This bloody boy in front of him was no different from the most of the Wizarding World, apparently, gushing about how great he was, how famous he was.

He was lucky. He had a large family who would laugh and play with him, and who would love them from the bottom of their hearts. He had a large family where he would probably get support without question. He most likely had a great childhood, judging by the innocence in his eyes.

Apparently, Ron Weasley was an idiot.

He couldn't believe that he was being judged by people who had never even seen him before. Judged by his fame, judged by his title, judged by all the rumors. 'How stupid are those people?' he wondered snappishly.

"Can we be friends? I think we would be the best of it, don't ya think?" Ron looked at Harry expectantly, hope filling his entire face. Harry felt like cursing him. Why would he befriend someone who couldn't even see him for what he was, instead judging him by all the rumors?

Harry opened his mouth to reject that ludicrous offer, but before he could say anything, the door slid open again.

"Have you guys seen a toad somewhere? Oh, hi Harry!"

Harry swiveled around to meet the familiar bushy-haired girl. He relaxed when he realized it was someone he knew, all the tension from the previous encounter seeping out from him. He walked over to greet her, ignoring the boy behind him. He winced slightly at the memory of the 'eventful' encounter between her and Draco, before pushing it away forcefully.

"Hermione," he said, smiling warmly. He stiffened slightly when she bounded over to hug him tightly, before forcing himself to relax. He couldn't force himself to hug her back so familiarly yet.

After a few moments, Hermione withdrew, a shy, understanding smile flickering over her face. She took a step back and asked the both of them, "Well? Have you guys seen a toad?"

Harry screwed his face up in a questioning look, almost bursting out in laughter at the ridiculous question. "Toad?"

As though sensing his hidden laughter, Hermione looked at him rather reproachfully as she answered, "Yes. Neville lost his toad, so I'm helping him look for it."

Harry pretended to understand, nodding empathetically while trying to hide his laughter before an idea struck him.

"Why don't I help you search for him? I'm free anyway," he asked. Anything to get out of the redhead's company would be great. Hermione would provide a much more intellectual conversation, after all.

"Sure!" she replied cheerfully, delighted that she got help.

As they headed out of the door, a boyish voice behind them sounded. "Hey! Wait for me!"

Harry gave a groan and a near scowl. Why was that bloody boy following them?

He wanted to strangle the boy, actually. Still, he knew better than to get on anyone's bad side. He was the stranger in this world, and offending anyone might get back at him one day. Seeing the large family of wizards Ron belonged with, he was sure that he was a Pureblood, powerful according to Draco and his common sense.

He had to be tactful.

Turning on his heels, Harry faced Ron with a forced pleading look on his face. He hoped that Ron's devotion to heed all of the Boy-Who-Lived's commands would override the boy's longing to join them. "Er…well, Ron? I think you should stay behind. I mean, all our stuff is in here, you know?"

Ron's face fell, and he began to shift uncomfortably before replying uncertainly, "Oh. Okay then… I guess I will stay here and take care of our stuff."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry replied, injecting some cheerfulness into his voice, hoping it would fool the redhead.

Quickly turning around, he grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her out of the door. He glanced back, hoping that he won't see Ron changing his mind and joining them. When he only saw Hermione's amused face, he felt himself relaxing.

"You hate that boy, don't you?" an accusing voice sounded from behind.

Nodding, Harry replied dryly, "He's an idiot."

"Why?" she asked, genuine curiosity entering her voice.

"Well, I would say it's because he didn't even know that no one would steal our trunks when all of our stuff will end up back into our hands when the house-elves sort out our stuff."

She mentally kept that bit of information as she huffed, "Where did you learn that? And, the real reason, mister."

He replied sullenly, "Draco's letters. I wasn't Harry Potter in his eyes, but the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Ah," she replied, understanding seeping into her tone, before a bossy tone took over.

"But, Harry, you can't just do that to anyone just because you don't like them! You have to try to be more sociable and accommodating, you know? Both of us are new to the Wizarding World, so we have to start from scratch. What are we to do if we treat everyone badly only because we hate them? Oh, Harry, you should really think –"

Harry burst out laughing at Hermione's rambling. He was glad that someone cared. It soothed the constant ache he had in his heart; an ache he always thought was due to loneliness.

"I know, I know, Hermione. I'm trying!"

--

It was dark. So very dark. He couldn't see anything, but then again, it didn't really matter if he could or not. The call of the other part of his soul was much too strong to ignore.

He nearly smiled when that part of his soul joined him. It was another step towards success, another step closer to meeting Harry again.

Gently, he placed his hand over where his heart was supposed to be, and closed his eyes. The ache in his heart had never gone away. Not since the day they parted, almost eleven years ago.

* * *

_Revised: 1/1/10_

**_REVIEW!! Please review(:_**

**_- Myxa_**


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. Get that right.**

**_Have fun reading!_**

**Chapter 8**

Hogwarts was as beautiful and majestic as Draco said it would be. So ancient, filled with its hidden mysteries and secrets, riddled with its many stories, both happy and sad. Magic flowed through its corridors in abundance, caressing and greeting each student. Harry smiled a little when he felt his own magic reacting with it.

He had been a little surprised that none of the other first years seemed to be affected by the thick magic like he was, until Draco's words, that untrained people usually couldn't sense magic that well, and sometimes, even the trained ones can only feel the magic that was directed at them, rang in his head.

The sound of shoes clicking across the stone floors resounded around the corridor the first years were walking through, soft whispers murmured between new found friends while some glanced tentatively between the dark shadows and the prim-looking Professor who was leading them. The sense of apprehension was thick in the air, and even Harry was feeling rather nervous.

"Hey," a soft whisper sounded from his side. Looking to his left, he saw a brunette looking rather excited. She was rather tall, taller than him by about two inches. She stood straight and proud, almost like a pureblood, if not for the aura of humility around her. Her face was kind, her eyes curious and eager, devoid of any schemes and cunning. Harry liked her instantly.

Her eyes flitted around, as though taking in everything Hogwarts had to offer, before smiling at him. Waving her hands vaguely about, she murmured, "Isn't this exciting? My aunt had told me all about Hogwarts, and I'm so glad to see it for myself. I wonder how much fun we will have here."

"Loads, I bet," Harry murmured, lips quirking up in a slight smile as he saw her grin.

He found himself being drawn to Hogwarts, excited by it even. He found none of its shadowed, drafty corridors dreary, or the stone walls and large structures intimidating. It was to be his new home for the next seven years, the place where his parents had once resided, and the place where he would finally have a semblance of freedom. He couldn't wait to see what Hogwarts held, what secrets he could uncover.

He could hardly keep his smile from bubbling up and spreading across his face.

Beside him, the brunette nodded eagerly, smiling brightly. "I'm Susan, by the way. Susan Bones."

"Harry Potter," Harry replied tartly, still a little sore about his "name".

Looking rather stunned for a moment, the girl quickly recovered. Sticking her hand out, her eyes danced merrily as she teased, "Great. Mind giving me an autograph? My father adores you."

Harry laughed softly, liking the girl even more. Unable to keep his amused expression off his face, he whispered conspiratorially, "I would, but you know, if I give too much out, the market prices may drop…"

Susan burst out laughing, earning a few confused looks from the people nearby. Shaking her head in disbelief, she choked out, "Of course, of course." Her eyes were filled with laughter as they shined brightly at him.

Harry merely beamed.

'Harry… Potter…'

Harry blinked, his euphoric feelings immediately dimming as he turned his head discreetly around to see who had whispered his name. Noticing that everyone seemed to be engrossed with either their own conversation or awe, Harry frowned slightly.

He fleetingly wondered if it was Eros hissing his name while she was sleeping under his robes, before deciding against that. He could definitely distinguish hisses from human tongue.

'Harry James…Potter…'

Harry's eyes widened imperceptibly when he heard it again. Becoming alert, he nearly stopped in his tracks in surprise when he felt a slight prick and a slight pressure in his head. He hesitated, before reaching out tentatively with his magic and mind and approached the supposed presence within him.

'Er…who are you?' Harry questioned silently, his tone skeptical.

There was a short silence, and Harry thought that the pressure felt a little heavier. The silence stretched out for a few long moments, and just when Harry was about to withdraw from his inner mind and declare himself insane, he heard it again.

'You can…hear me, child?'

'No shit, unless I'm completely crazy,' Harry thought sarcastically, though he didn't try projecting his thoughts towards the presence. Refraining from questioning his own sanity, he asked into his mind again, feeling slightly stupid as he did so. 'Of course. But…who _are_ you?'

'I am… Hogwarts, child. You must…possess a…great amount of…magic…to be able…to hear me,' the soft whisper sounded wistful, as though regretting something.

Shocked was an understatement as to what he felt towards the revelation. Who knew that Hogwarts could actually communicate? Curiosity spiked, Harry asked the questions that were flitting around in his head, 'What has magic got to do with anything? And, are you a sentient being?'

'Only those with…great amounts of magic…are able to communicate…with me…with the exception…of the headmaster…The last one…who had been…able to do this…was over fifty years…ago,' the soft whisper was alluring in a way, filled with mystique and wisdom.

Harry felt a slight pang of sympathy at Hogwarts' words, dimly wondering who the person who could communicate with her was.

The soft whisper of Hogwarts continued, catching Harry's attention again.

'I'm made by…the founders to be…partly sentient…I am…merely…existing on magic…'

"Harry? Are you alright?" a questioning voice sounded in his ears, snapping him away from his mind conversation. He nearly cursed when he realized that he had been interrupted. Looking to his left, he offered a weak smile, trying to ignore the buzzing of magic around him.

"Yes, I'm alright, Susan," he replied smoothly, a reassuring tone covering his inner turmoil.

"Are you sure? You looked dazed, like you were out of the world just now," she murmured anxiously, peering at him.

Waving his hands to placate her, Harry forced a brighter smile at her.

From nearby, he noticed Hermione listening in. Shooting her a reassuring glance, she casted a doubtful look at him, before nodding at him worriedly when he flashed another smile, turning around to hear the speech the stern Professor was giving, listening in rapture as she became completely focused.

Harry shook his head slightly at Hermione's devotion to authority. Casting that thought aside, he reached inside his mind with his magic again, hoping to find the presence of Hogwarts there.

After a few moments, he withdrew with a near pout on his face, feeling rather disappointed and bewildered. It was gone.

He gave a light sigh as he followed the crowd through the doors of the Great Hall, so distracted that he couldn't bring himself to feel awe at the brilliantly enchanted sky, merely admiring the intricate enchantments fleetingly. Beside him, Susan chattered incessantly about the beauty of Hogwarts; something which he agreed. His mind went off in a daze at the strangeness that had just happened, before a call snapped him out of it.

"Potter, Harry."

The sharp voice resounded across the Great Hall, evoking whispers from the crowd of upper years surrounding the first years. Harry snapped up to look at the Professor who called his name, only to realize that it was his turn to be Sorted. He didn't realize that both Hermione and Draco were already Sorted.

Harry winced slightly at all the attention he was getting, but didn't shy away. Glancing discreetly at the surrounding tables, he noted Hermione's eager face among the table he thought was the Gryffindors, what with the red and gold, while he spotted Draco's smug face among the Slytherins.

'Surprise, surprise,' Harry thought sarcastically at the latter.

Taking in a deep breath, he drew himself to his full height and strode over to the waiting seat and hat. Draco had explained all the technicalities to him; a Malfoy couldn't possibly be left on the unknown about the workings of something as simple as a Sorting ceremony.

Weaving gracefully through the rest of the first years, Harry strove to keep his sight to the front, unwilling to acknowledge any calls from the surrounding upper years.

Willing to do anything to keep his sight from the students, he glanced up at the Professors' table. Harry almost froze when he met a pair of twinkling blue eyes. The old man, the one Draco had said was the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"_Hey, what's this?" Harry asked curiously, flipping the card he held in hand over and over again, noting with interest the picture printed at the back of it. It was an old man wearing bizarre robes, with twinkling blue eyes that seemed scary in a way._

_Both Harry and Hermione were in the compartment Draco was in, chancing upon him alone when they were searching for Neville's toad. They had been invited in as Draco's friends were all in other compartments just then, and he had been bored. Not that he was very pleased with Hermione's presence._

_Still, he could tolerate her, and had even acquiesced to her request of telling them tales of the magical world, like how his Father had brought him to see the beautiful and magnificent dragons when he was seven, which interested Hermione greatly, and the Quidditch matches he had watched, in which Harry perked up._

_Glancing at the card Harry was holding, Draco replied in a bored tone, popping another Every Flavour Bean into his mouth, looking slightly relieved when it wasn't anything nasty._

"_It's a collectable card that comes along with Chocolate Frogs. They feature famous wizards and witches. It's a pretty popular collectable among the Wizarding kind. Who have you got there?"_

"_Er, a really weird looking old man called Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I don't like the look of him that much…" Harry replied, looking doubtfully at the card, before a soft gasp on Hermione's side caught his attention._

"_Harry! How can you not know? He's the famous Headmaster of Hogwarts! Oh, and he's also a prominent figure in the Wizarding World! He's the Chief of Warlock of the Wizengamot, __Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Grand Sorcerer and has received –"_

_She was silenced with a burning glare from the blond, which was continued with an angry outburst. _

"_He's __a fucking old Muggle-lover who condones no Dark activities. He's the one who made many lives of the Purebloods difficult, especially after the fall of the Dark Lord, causing many to have to go into hiding, even when they were innocent." _

"_He's a blind man who can't see that Muggles had hurt us and can do it once more, who can't see that incorporating the Wizarding World and the Muggle world will never work because Muggles can never accept us truly. He thinks he's a God to everyone, when all of his methods are hurting the survival of magic."_

"_He believes in only Light, when there will always be Dark. He wants to eradicate everything he hates, but he will only destroy magic. Purebloods never hated Muggleborns, but what they represented. Muggles."_

"_He's no Messiah, he's no God, and he's done much to hurt many. He doesn't deserve all the titles!"_

_Draco cut off Hermione's words with a sneer, ending his rant with a yell. His gray eyes were wide as he glared at Hermione, his fists clenched, and his whole frame trembling in anger. _

_Harry recognized the emotions in his eyes without much effort; bitterness, resentment, hatred and defiance__ displayed themselves openly on his face, unlike the usual closed-off, sneering Draco._

_Hermione's eyes were large as she stared at Draco blankly, her mouth open in a slight gape. She hadn't thought that Draco could lose control in that way; he always seemed aloof, cold, and arrogant, as though nothing could touch him, almost like Harry in a way._

_His thunderous temper reminded her of his status as a Pureblood, influential, rich, and powerful._

_At the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Draco's fingers inching towards the pockets of his robes, presumably to take out his wand. _

_Harry narrowed his eyes at that, and let out a low, dangerous voice. He warned__ darkly, "Draco."_

_Draco swivelled around to meet Harry's warning gaze, hi__s expression almost defiant. Harry growled lowly, his body shifting slightly towards the shocked girl, fingers moving towards the pockets of his robes._

_That__ seemed to snap Draco out of his state, and he immediately deflated, shutting his eyes tightly as he slumped against his seat. His arms lay limp by his side as he took deep breaths to calm down._

_Rising smoothly, Harry walked over to the shocked Hermione and gently tapped her on her shoulder, before walking out of the compartment. The soft click of shoes on the floor assured him that she followed. He kept a neutral face despite Hermione's babbling at his side._

_Flipping Draco's words in his head, he felt anger boiling in his veins. He loved his magic, and apparently this Dumbledore figure was going to destroy the very existence of it with his own hands, even if he didn't know it. Dark and Light were two parts to magic, and Dumbledore had no right to eradicate any one part to it. He could understand why Draco was so mad. _

_He hadn't met the man, but he hated him already._

'So, this is the renowned Headmaster, the one Draco hates?' Harry mused silently, carefully making sure that his facial expression was blank as he continued to make his way towards the head.

He lowered his head slightly to make it look like he was looking at the floor, allowing his raven hair to shadow his eyes, all the while peering at the bearded old man.

The smile on his face seemed plastered, the grandfatherly gaze a façade. The twinkling blue eyes were icy-cold, he realized, calculating and pondering, though he supposed it would look like they were warm and inviting to the more innocent. Slytherins wouldn't make such a mistake though, what with their upbringing and their social circles.

The power that emanated from him was true though, enticing and alluring like any powerful magic. He knew that the Headmaster would not hesitate to use it if the situation called for it. What unnerved him the most, was the interest in his eyes as the Headmaster eyed him. He had to be careful, he decided.

Seating himself on the chair, Harry let his thoughts about Dumbledore scatter into nothing, wary of the Hat. He gave a light sigh of annoyance when the Hat was placed on his head, where it slipped and covered his eyes totally.

'Hmm…who do we have here? Harry James Potter. My, my, the Boy-Who-Lived has finally arrived in the halls of Hogwarts, have you not?' a sharp voice sounded in his mind suddenly, causing Harry to blink in surprise.

Draco said the Hat would Sort them, not that it would be able to talk with them!

'You know young Malfoy? Quite a charmer, aren't you? Slytherins hardly befriend people out of their circles, and to befriend one that's supposed to be their enemy…'

'Draco befriends anyone he wants to,' Harry retorted, his heart suddenly plummeting when he considered those words. It had been a worry at first, as to why Draco would befriend a supposed enemy, but since Draco had approached him before he even knew Harry's identity, he had supposed it was alright.

'No, no, young Potter. Slytherins will only be true to their kind, loyal only to themselves and their circles, and nothing else. Only two things attract Slytherins, my boy. Power, and status,' the voice replied mysteriously, evoking Harry's curiosity.

Power and status? Draco couldn't have possibly known about his Boy-Who-Lived's status when they first met, which left the other choice. But…he wasn't powerful, was he?

Ignoring Harry's jumbled up thoughts, the Hat plundered on into Harry's mind, bent with finding out his personality. Harry casted the pondering aside and waited for the Hat's verdict.

'Brave, loyal to your loved ones, cunning but yet not ambitious. You crave knowledge, because it gives you the edge over others, and you hate to be controlled. Reckless to the point of danger, yet you do have a deep sense of self-preservation… Hmm? What's this?'

'What?' Harry snapped, startled. His patience for allowing the Hat to view his mind was wearing thin.

'Oh, nothing, nothing,' came the hasty reply, and before Harry could push any further, he was cut off with a question.

'You would be great in Slytherin, Harry James Potter, but you are also suited for Gryffindor. Would you make a choice, young Potter?'

Harry blanked out for a moment, surprised that he was given a choice.

'Aren't you supposed to make the decision?' he asked inquisitively, wondering if it was the norm for students to choose their preferred House.

'Personalities are not just tempered by one's characteristics, but also by their family backgrounds, their friends, and their choices, young Potter. The choices you make decide your fate,' the Hat replied sagely, for once displaying the thousand year wisdom it was supposed to have.

Harry bit his lip, and pondered between the two choices. Within a few moments, he made up his mind. The hat didn't seem surprised.

'Very well, you've made your choice, Harry James Potter. I wish you the best in…'

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry plastered a fake smile at all the applause as he made his way to the loudest table. He was sure that he didn't make the wrong choice.

Draco was in Slytherin, while Hermione was in Gryffindor. The only two friends he had were in two different Houses. Draco had his childhood friends from his social circles, while Hermione had none, being a Muggleborn.

He might not be totally accepting of Hermione because of her background, but he knew that she would be a great friend if given the chance. Stubborn and resolute in her ways, she would stick to her friends.

Furthermore, if his suspicions were correct, the Wizarding World would be anticipating him to enter Gryffindor. He was the Boy-Who-Lived after all, and according to Draco's bitter words, he was sure that the Slytherin was branded as the evil house, while Gryffindor was the ultimate 'Light' House, filled with courage and grandeur.

He didn't need the accusation or scrutiny, even though he knew he would truly belong in the Slytherin House.

Being placed in Gryffindor would remove most of the attention from himself, being where he was supposed to be. He would be able to act without much trouble if needed be.

Draco would throw a fit, that was for sure, but he knew Draco. He knew perfectly well that his temper would abate after a while, and would understand if given proper reasons.

Plus, he would be the best kind of Snake if he managed to sneak into and live in the Lion's den.

As he descended from the platform and approached the Gryffindors, the Hat pondered about the memory fragments he saw in Harry James Potter's head, shattered beyond belief, but yet connected to each other, as though waiting for something to join all of it back up again.

--

"Sho whut ah we hafin fo lesshuns?"

Correction. He regretted his choice to be in Gryffindor. And it was only his first bloody school day.

Eying the redhead sitting opposite in distaste as he gobbled down the food like a pig, Harry had a fleeting impression of Dudley in him, only much thinner and had freckles and red hair instead of being blond. He had to duck when the pieces of food in his mouth flew out, narrowly missing him. At the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione flinch.

It really didn't help in his impression of him, especially when he was already so idiotic in the first place.

He gritted his teeth as the Weasley continued to speak, his hands waving everywhere, slobber and food splattering almost everywhere. Harry suddenly felt pride at his dodging skills.

The owls had begun flying into the Hall, earning a few gasps from the First Years. Harry's scowl towards Weasley turned deeper as he watched his splutter food all over the face as one of the owls collided into his plate. Looking up in a bid to escape that disgusting sight, he spotted Professor Snape storming out of the Hall with a nasty expression, clutching a crumpled letter. The curiosity sparked was quickly diverted by Weasley talking again, and he silently lamented his misfortune to sit across someone who had completely no grace whatsoever.

Beside him, Hermione shot the Weasley an annoyed glare, giving an irritated huff as she packed up all of her books, standing up abruptly.

Weasley looked up and stared at her, surprised.

"Where are you going, Hermione?" Harry asked, his gaze knowing as he looked at her.

She gave him a pleading look, her eyes shifting from him to eye at the Weasley in slight disgust. He felt relieved at the same sentiments.

She bit her lip gently, her eyes glancing around shiftily, as though trying to find an excuse. When her gaze fell onto her books, she perked up and replied cheerfully, "The library. I want to do some studying before our first lesson starts."

Before Harry could reply, there was a loud snort of disbelief coming from the other side of the table.

"Study? It's only the first day!"

Hermione sniffed haughtily, her eyes narrowing with annoyance as she glared at the offending boy. The Weasley seemed to wilt under her intense glare, satisfying her. With a sharp turn on her heels, she stalked off, only pausing to glance meaningfully at Harry for a moment.

Harry nearly wanted to laugh out in delight at the display as he quickly packed up his books and followed the irate girl. He didn't think that Hermione could act just like Draco when provoked!

Hastily following the girl, he turned around the corner where he stopped suddenly at the sight of Draco, along with his two hulks, Crabbe and Goyle, if he could remember correctly. All of them wore nasty expressions, their stances threatening as they came to a halt before them.

He gave a tight smile, his muscles tightening at the tense and icy atmosphere. Walking over, he stopped before them. Draco merely sneered at him, and glowered coldly at the both of them. Harry raised his eyebrow questioningly, a little wary. He didn't like the look on his face.

Glancing between Hermione and him, he began bitingly, "Gryffindor, Potter? I would have thought you were a right old Slytherin. Did this Mudblood brainwash you or something?"

Harry narrowed his eyes upon hearing that, while Hermione stiffened. Warningly, he asked, "What's Mudblood?"

Draco sneered, answering smugly, "Those who are beneath us Purebloods of course. The Muggleborns, whose blood's so dirty –"

Harry immediately lost his breath at Draco's insults, his fingernails cutting into his palms painfully as he clenched his fists tightly. He felt anger coursing through his veins, fury nearly blinding him. He took several deep breaths, knowing that Draco's words were spoken out of spite and jealousy.

He allowed a trickle of his magic to flow, choking Draco slightly so that he didn't continue his sentence. He coughed for a moment or two, the viciousness in his glare not diminishing. Harry pushed another bit of his magic to bind the three in place to prevent them from attacking. Draco paused for a moment, a flash of uncertainty in his grey eyes.

"What –?" Draco's voice held a threatening tone, his voice slightly trembling.

Harry pursed his lips, slightly surprised that Draco could feel his magic surrounding him. Then again, he supposed it was understandable. He did come from a Pureblood family, surrounded by Slytherin teachings, learnt to protect himself since young.

"Listen up, Draco," Harry commanded, annoyance clearly shown in his scowl.

The Slytherins didn't react, and he took it as a good sign.

"Don't treat me as one of your Slytherin buddies. I'm not," Harry started off seriously, before continuing rather flippantly, "not to say I don't belong there, I do."

The trio stared at him disbelievingly. Even Hermione was startled. Bewildered now, Draco asked, "Then why the hell are you in Gryffindor?"

"Because I asked?" Harry smirked as he replied, taking in the faces of shock.

"You…asked," Draco repeated slowly. A hint of relief tinged his voice, lightening Harry's heavy heart a little. He was not going to lose his friend after all.

"Yup," Harry smiled innocently at him, before turning serious again.

Taking a deep breath, he locked both of their gazes together, allowing his disappointment and hurt to be shown in his eyes. "You should know that I'm much smarter than that to be brainwashed by anyone. I chose Gryffindor for my own personal benefits, Draco," he spoke softly, before adding an afterthought, "and for Hermione of course." He shot her a quick smile, which she returned, startled.

He saw the guilt in the grey eyes and cheered silently. Seeing that Draco seemed to be cracking, he took another step forward. He glanced nervously at the two bodyguards, before he made his decision and extended a little of his magic to daze them for a few moments. He didn't like to reveal his personal details to any stranger.

Taking a deep breath, he began. "I never had a friend. Never. My Muggle relatives were much...too restrictive for that," Harry spat bitterly, his eyes shadowed as he lowered his head slightly; he was unable to meet the gazes he was sure to be sympathetic.

Taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, Harry plundered on, "And you two people are possibly the only ones that have their heads screwed on properly, and won't judge me for my bestowed status. I don't want to lose anyone of you. Draco…please understand."

The shocked silence was enough to keep Harry's sight towards the stone floors. He didn't manage to see Hermione's gape.

She couldn't believe her ears. Harry Potter had appeared to her as one of the enigmatic, charming young boy who seemed too thin for his own good when they first met. Sure, she sensed an undercurrent of danger and defiance in him, and his hostility had turned her off at first.

However, she couldn't help but be attracted to the young boy, which was the reason why she had approached Harry when she feared being rejected.

His grace and beauty struck her as ethereal, his poise and elegance seemed undiminished even by the apparent neglect. Confidence oozed out of him as though being trapped inside him for a long time, but there had always been a hint of unease and hesitance underneath. The power that emanated from him was intoxicating, and yet it was as though Harry thought of it as normal, as though he was nothing special.

She knew that Harry's relatives neglected him, and perhaps abused him even, but she didn't know the details. The effect was clear though. Harry was too thin, his discomfort in proper clothing, the unease he felt at any hint of being controlled, his claim of being full when he had only eaten one-third of what she had…

Harry's revelation shocked her, pained her to see that such a beautiful, talented boy could be destroyed by his terrible childhood.

She knew the pain of being lonely, the hurt when everyone went out to play together, leaving only you in the shadows, but the pain and hurt only doubled for Harry. He had no family, no friends, and the neglect and abuse only served to destroy him even further.

She took a step forward, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stiffened slightly, before relaxing, though not acknowledging her presence. His gaze was locked onto Draco.

Draco's expression softened, slight shock in his eyes as Harry's confession registered in his mind.

Silence reigned between them for a few moments, before Draco spoke in a soft, hesitant voice, "I... Harry, I'll talk to you later."

Harry nodded, immediately retracting all of his magic. Once he felt the pressure upon him being released, Draco turned around and walked down the corridors, only pausing once to look back at the both of them. Harry smiled slightly, knowing that it was the most he could get out of Draco as an answer right then.

A light sense of comfort blanketed the two remaining. It was broken, however, moments later.

"Hey! What was the prat doing with the both of you? He's a Malfoy isn't he? Death Eater spawns, all of them Slytherins," a loud, boyish voice sounded from behind, and they turned around to see the boisterous Weasley.

Harry narrowed his eyes in fury as Weasley continued to spout out more and more insults. Beside him, he could also see Hermione bristle in anger.

They might have only known each other for a few days, but they were friends, and Harry knew that friends had to defend each other.

His emotions were already stretched thin, what with the previous encounter with Draco and being in a new environment. Weasley's words were the last thing he could take, and, he snapped.

* * *

_Revised: 1/1/10_

**Leave a review! Please?**

**- Myxa**


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Nope. Nada. Not mine. Harry Potter's not mine.**

**_A shorter chapter, but I'll make it up to you guys next chapter. It is much longer. YES! The newest chapter's coming up next!_**

**_Enjoy!_**

**Chapter 9**

The atmosphere within the corridor turned from grim to downright dangerous within seconds. Harry narrowed his eyes at the offending Weasley, his emerald eyes darkening with rage. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, trying in vain to rein in his mounting temper. His rage was rather surprising to him, especially after years of tolerating Vernon.

"What do you mean by that?" he growled lowly, his calm tone belying the anger within him.

"Exactly what I mean! I mean, everyone knows that Slytherins are slimy gits! All destined to be Death Eater spawns. You would do good to stay away from them, Har," Ron replied derisively, his nose almost pointing up into the air as he flashed a supposed "buddy" grin. Harry merely felt dislike rising up even further for the red head.

"No one gave you the permission to call me anything but my proper name, Weasley," he sneered, "and what made you think that you can make my choices for me?"

Ron's expression was almost of a gaping fish as he heard those words. He blinked confusedly as he spluttered, "B-but, you're the Boy-Who-Lived! Shouldn't you hate those bastards?"

Harry stiffened, the tight control he managed to have over his emotions loosening in an instant. Hermione, who had been watching the exchange with anxiety, wisely took a few steps back.

"Don't," he hissed dangerously, "ever presume you know me, Weasel. And for your information, Draco is more of a person than you can ever hope to be."

"But they killed your parents!" Weasley whined. 'This wasn't how it was supposed to be!' he thought desperately, 'Harry's supposed to be my best friend, and we were supposed to defeat those bloody Slytherins!'

He didn't see the snarl that twisted immediately on Harry's face at his words as a huge wave of suffocating power knocked him backwards and into a wall, and he blacked out.

Harry stood shakily for a moment, smiling slightly at the destruction he had caused. He breathed heavily as he felt the energy within him slip away as he slumped onto the floor, unconscious. He didn't even hear Hermione shrieking his name, nor notice the dark shadow flickering on the other side.

--

"A First Year in my hospital wing on the very first school day. I suppose what they say about one seeing something new everyday is true," a voice tutted disapprovingly as he opened his eyes. The bright light shining into his eyes made him groan in discomfort, and he immediately lifted his arms to shield his eyes. His whole body felt heavy like lead, his head pounding painfully when he tried to sit up.

"Ouch," he hissed, rubbing his temples in hopes of relieving the throb.

"Yes, ouch, Mr. Potter," the same voice he heard addressed him.

Opening his eyes blearily, he noted the white starchy uniform the lady in front of him wore, dimly registering that she probably was a nurse.

Wait…nurse?

"That would teach you not to lose control of your magic. Straining magical reserves isn't comfortable for anyone, especially for the younger children, when magical reserves aren't yet stable. You should be glad that it was only a shock to your system, and that nothing too bad happened," she reprimanded him, a frown on her stern face.

Peering around curiously, he noticed that no one else was in the room. Neatly made beds were situated throughout the room, and sterile atmosphere made him cringe. Noting his inquisitive look, the nurse huffed and said, "This is the hospital wing. I don't know what in the world you did, but it was enough to strain your reserves and land you here."

He nodded half-heartedly, wincing as he recalled what it was that landed him in the hospital wing. He could only remember the confrontation Weasley and he had, and the sudden rush from within him before everything went black. Looking around, he realized that Hermione wasn't there.

"Umm, Madam? May I know where my friend is?" he asked curiously, "Did she leave for the classes already?"

"Call me Poppy, dear," she replied, busy running diagnostic spells over him. He shifted uncomfortably as one of the red lights flashed past his eyes. "Your friend? Ah, Miss Granger? Classes aren't starting in another half an hour's time. No, no, your friend is explaining to the Headmaster as to what had happened."

Harry blanched upon hearing that. He did _not _need questions. Remembering how devoted Hermione was to authority, his heart sank. As Poppy went to the back of the hospital wing, the door at the other side swung open, and the Headmaster walked in with a jovial smile with Hermione following behind. Seeing Harry sitting up in his bed, she beamed, the worry in her eyes disappearing.

"Mr. Potter, my boy, I'm glad that you seem alright!" Professor Dumbledore started off cheerfully, his blue eyes twinkling.

Harry didn't deign to reply, merely staring at the spot above the Headmaster's head impassively even though his heart was thudding furiously.

Not put off by his aloofness, the Headmaster continued, "Miss Granger had been kind enough to inform me of what had happened in the corridors –"

Harry tensed up upon hearing them, prepared to be given a scolding or even worse yet, expulsion. He shivered at that thought, starting to panic when the next words nearly made his jaw drop.

"– and as we do not condone students attacking another, Mr. Weasley would be duly punished for raising his wand against you, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore finished off with a grave look on his face.

Harry nearly felt like gaping at the Headmaster, but caught himself in time. Sensing that a response was needed, he quickly nodded distractedly, focusing on a spot on the headmaster's face. Dumbledore's somber expression swiftly turned to the usual grandfatherly look as he said, "Well, I trust that Poppy will take good care of you, Mr. Potter. Do get some rest, alright?"

Faking a smile, Harry ducked his head and replied, "Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

"No problem, my boy," Dumbledore replied, the twinkle in his blue eyes growing brighter. Harry tucked back the sneer that was threatening to emerge.

When the door shut close with a click, Harry turned to face Hermione, raising an eyebrow as he questioned softly, afraid that Poppy would hear.

"Weasley attacking me? What was that all about?"

Hermione chewed on her lip with a troubled expression, and tugged at her curly hair. Her brown eyes reflected guilt as she whispered in a frazzled tone, "I hope you know that I lied to the Headmaster for you, Harry. The Headmaster! And I lied to him! Gods…"

Reining in the astonishment within him, Harry tried again, "Hermione, what did you tell the Headmaster?"

"I-I told him that Weasley attacked you with a spell, and…and that you tried to defend yourself by raising your wand. Some-somehow or another, your magic had exploded to protect you. It was a half-truth…I didn't dare to lie outright. I think Professor Dumbledore would have known if I had lied completely…" she explained, her voice getting softer and softer, and more uncertain. She paused for a while, conflicting emotions clearly shown on her face as her eyes flitted nervously everywhere.

Despite the slight guilt he felt, he couldn't help but relish the warmth that spread in him. Hermione cared.

"Gods…I lied to the Headmaster. I can't believe I did that," she murmured. All of a sudden, something blazed in her eyes as she glared at Harry, who flinched.

"You better appreciate that effort, Harry Potter! I actually lied to a Professor for you!" she whispered lowly but harshly, her finger prodding painfully into Harry's chest, who was nodding furiously away, eyes wide at her outburst.

"Never, ever, ever have I lied to a teacher! And of something this important! Ooh! You owe me for this, Harry James Potter. You better not get into anymore trouble or I won't vouch for you ever! You stupid, stupid reckless troublemaker! How Draco ever thought you were a Slytherin is beyond me!"

Slumping onto the bed as her energy drained away, she mustered up one last glare as she said, "I want a good Christmas present, you got me?"

And Harry actually thought that only Draco would make such a request. Grinning, he laid back on the bed as he plotted on how to get out of the hospital wing. Granted, he had never been in any hospitals, but he hated it the moment he woke up in it. All white definitely didn't suit him.

A thought suddenly struck him. Poppy hadn't even mentioned about taking a look at his scar or even eyed the location of it.

He _liked_ her.

--

Walking down the corridors towards his office, Dumbledore frowned. The boy had not met his eyes even once.

--

"Mr. Potter!" The screech echoed round the corridors near the hospital wing, making the duo sneaking away grimace.

--

The hushed excitement going on about his arrival had faded after a while, and he had found most of his House mates tolerable if he didn't include those who kept pestering him with "Oh Merlin, Harry you are wonderful!" – which included Ron Weasley and his new gang. The previous clash with him seemed to have not taught him anything, and Harry hated his arrogance for that.

The Gryffindors were a raucous bunch, though, what with their endless parties and scream-fests, and Harry soon found himself shunning most of his housemates in favour of acquainting himself with the quieter and more polite bunch of Ravenclaws. They didn't speak unless needed to, which was perfect for him. Hermione had struck up a friendship, or rather, a knowledge-exchanging system with almost all of the first year Ravenclaws after the first week. It was then that he suspected that she had been into the library for longer than he had noticed.

Classes were actually fun. Herbology was interesting enough. Of course, he had to have cultivated a love for gardening after all the tending of Petunia's flowerbeds. Professor Sprout was warm and friendly, her love for plants clear in her bustling, caring way. He had been partnered with a shy boy called Neville Longbottom, and the professor had been absolutely impressed with how well they worked together. Both Neville and he had formed a strong partnership after their first lesson.

History of Magic was… boring. Harry had spent the whole lesson reading his book that he had bought from Flourish and Blotts.

The more surprising lessons were Charms, Transfiguration and Defence against Dark Arts.

"_Anyone knows what we're going to do with the feather in front of you today?" Professor Flitwick chirped, his face peering at his students expectantly. _

_Looking at the feather, Harry frowned slightly. This scene felt a little familiar…_

"_Yes, the young lady over there?"_

_Shooting a glance beside him, his suspicions were confirmed. Hermione was opening her mouth to answer the question._

"_Levitation charm, sir." _

"_That's correct, what's your name, young miss?"_

"_Hermione Granger," she replied promptly, her face slightly flushed with pride._

_The professor glanced at the piece of paper lying on his desk, before exclaiming cheerfully, "Five points to Gryffindor! Now, the incantation of this spell is Wingardium Leviosa, and the wand movement is very simple. Swish, and flick! Try this, all of you!"_

_Harry picked up his wand, but instead of joining the rest of his classmates in the simultaneous action of the swish and flick, he turned his attention to the feather in front of him. With a calm countenance, he flicked his wand naturally, murmuring, "Wingardium Leviosa."_

_He wasn't surprised when the feather began to float its way up. It had felt right, for some reason, and the pride and satisfaction in performing that piece of magic rushed through him. _

_He was rather oblivious to the jealous stares of his classmates, and the professor's awed, "Marvelous, marvelous!"_

It was rather strange, but similar stuff happened in his Transfiguration and Defence lessons. It was as though his wand and hand moved on its own, his magic reacting in response.

Professor McGonagall had taken it in stride, complimenting him and awarded him with the House points, but the Defence professor had looked rather doubtful. Harry nearly scowled in remembrance of the suspicion that he was 'rewarded' with after he had performed his first Defence spell perfectly on the first try. He would have sneered and insulted the Professor if not for the fact that Hermione distracted him with questions on how he managed to do it.

He would have appreciated his innate ability to learn spells easily and efficiently if it hadn't brought about problems. Problems of more adoration in fact. He was getting quite sick of coy smiles from girls and even some boys as he walked down the corridors. The flirting that had started from around the second day was even more irritating; he couldn't even eat his breakfast in peace. His "talents" in studies had brought few girls and boys requesting for "tuition". He wasn't as stupid not to know how such tuition sessions would end. He was only eleven!

Despite such annoyances, he was actually happy. Happy to be finally accepted, and happy to finally accept someplace as his home. His first week in Hogwarts had been wonderful.

What he had been rather anxious for, actually, was the Potions lesson on Friday. It would pretty much show what Draco's stance would be, and it would be rather interesting to see how Professor Snape taught. He had heard many rumours about his teaching that he couldn't wait to confirm…

--

"Hermione, here." He gestured at the bench that was five rows away from the teacher's desk. Predictably, Hermione gave a shake of head and pointed to the empty first row. Frowning, Harry pulled her to sit down, earning a quiet protest from the girl. He had just made himself comfortable on the stiff benches when the door was flung open with a loud bang.

Almost all of the students jumped at the sound, most of their heads swiveling around to look at the cloaked man wearing an expression that radiated menace standing at the doorway. His disgruntled expression morphed into something akin to dislike when he saw the curious and rather afraid faces. His dark eyes glared from beneath the greasy strands of black hair, his sallow face pinched in an almost sneer. Darkness simply emanated from him in rolling waves, his black robes billowing, his heels clicking dangerously as he stalked his way to the front.

He was positively the epitome of the spawn from hell.

With a smooth, precise spin right after he reached his desk, he gave his 'audience' a sweeping glower, his dark eyes burning with distaste as he surveyed his students. Harry noticed that the Slytherins were smart enough to lower their gazes, promptly doing so himself. Many Gryffindors flinched when his gaze stopped on them, though there was a brave, but stupid boy who dared to glare back. He was quickly reduced to soft whimpers when the glower turned into something much more poisonous.

Observing him from his seat that he had admittedly chosen for safety, Harry's only thought was, 'No wonder he's called an overgrown bat.'

He began speaking in a silky, downright dangerous voice, his eyes narrowing threateningly, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began, his voice soft, but cutting. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry felt almost enthralled at the dark aura seeping from the Professor. It pulled at his magic, played with it. Unlike the brighter, lighter magic of the rest of the school, the dark magic emanating from the Professor toyed with his own, making him feel alive. It wasn't that he disliked the bright, happy magic; in fact it was rather interesting to work with it, but the darker, more mysterious power that only Professor Snape seemed to have called to him. He wondered if he was being strange.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Professor Snape asked. His expression suddenly turned neutral when he stared at him.

Ransacking his mind for a moment, he smiled when he got the answer. It had been right at the end of the Potions textbook – the only one besides from Defense against Dark Arts that he had read.

"Draught of Living Death, sir."

Professor Snape sneered slightly, though surprise flashed in his eyes.

"Where would you look if I ask you to find me a bezoar?"

"Stomach of a goat, sir," he answered firmly, sure of the answer. It had been right at the first few pages.

"Difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" the Professor all but snapped.

"None, sir. They also go by the name of aconite."

The Professor paused for a while, staring at him with an odd looking expression. After a long, fear-filled silence, the professor finally spoke slowly, the hard disdain returning back into his cold, dark eyes. "Well? Why aren't the rest of you writing that down?"

Harry smirked at the sudden noise of the rustling of parchment and clinking of stationary, his mind dancing in victory. Harry: one, Snape: zero. He might be awed by the Professor's magic, and might had been interested in knowing more about the man, but it hadn't mean that he liked him well enough to be chummy with him. Plus, he figured that he might as well have someone to snap and be nasty at him to keep him at his toes. It wouldn't do to let Dudley have one over him any time soon.

Throughout the rest of the lesson, he kept tucking back the smirk that fought to emerge as the Professor all but breathed down all of their necks as they weighed, crushed and cut their materials. 'Intimidation tactics to see who could adapt and survive,' Harry mused, 'Let's see if Darwin's theory would work in this class.'

An explosion rocked the class right near the end of the lesson, and Harry almost felt pity for poor Neville, who was stuttering and trembling in fear in front of the livid Professor. Almost.

Weaklings couldn't hope to survive in the first place.

"Bloody Snape," he muttered, a glower on his face as he stepped out of the classroom. He hadn't thought that Neville's mistake would result in Gryffindor losing twenty points. Hermione nudged him for his language, and pulled him along for the next class.

A haughty voice called out his name just as he was about to turn around the corner. Turning around, he was suddenly glad to meet the familiar smirkish-smile on the pale, pointed face.

"Harry," Draco greeted, a little wary, but warm all the same.

Letting out a big smile, Harry greeted back. Hermione lurked behind him, wearing a rather nervous expression.

"I don't think I've introduced you to my minions," Draco commented, waving his hands vaguely at the people standing slightly behind him. It was only then that he noticed the group of people standing behind him. He snorted quietly at the term of 'endearment' Draco used.

The two heavy-weight bodyguards were the first he noticed, and also the first he recognized. They towered over everyone in the group, their bodies well-muscled and huge. Both wore dumb-looking expressions, their faces blank, almost uncomprehending as they stared at him. It was only the flash of intelligence in both their eyes that gave their game away. The next he noticed was the only girl in their group. She was an absolute beauty, her blonde hair falling in waves, framing her delicate heart shaped face. She stood tall and proud, her eyes sharp and alert.

She was also the one who snapped back at Draco for his words.

"Minions? Draco dear, one would think that _you_ are the minion. _My_ minion," she retorted, lips twirling up in a slight smirk as her eyelashes fluttered.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco bestowed the girl an incredulous look. "Yours? I would have you know that –"

The last boy in the group, a thin, fragile looking boy, spoke up irritably then, his soft voice sharp. "If you guys quarrel _one more time,_ I'm going to sell the both of you to the giants and you can be _their _minions for all I care."

Harry stifled his laughter at that, while Hermione giggled.

The whole group shifted easily after that, almost comfortable in each other's company as they trouped down the corridors. It was clear as anything that the Slytherins tended to ignore Hermione, but they made the effort, which pleased him.

Everyone that passed them was rather amazed by the group. It had to be the first time that Gryffindors willingly acquainted themselves with Slytherins.

--

The wind that blew was harsh and cold, and for a moment, he was glad that he couldn't feel such trivialities. Speeding up just a little, he tried to ignore the dread that was welling within him. He would make it in time for Halloween.

* * *

_Revised: 1/1/10_

**REVIEW!!! Love ya if you leave a review XD. Old readers, the chapter you've been waiting for is coming!!!**

**- Myxa**


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Nope. Harry Potter does NOT belong to me.**

_Yes!! I'm back, guys! My updates were actually supposed to be during Christmas, but I couldn't make it in time. The last part of this chapter, despite being the most exciting, was a bitch to write. I think I rewrote that part two or three times... I think you guys will love this chapter XD. I know I loved it. I'm proud of this chapter word count wise. 6206 words not counting lyrics! My longest chapter yet! (:_

_Oh yeah, peeps, I'm changing my name to AerienMyxa. _

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 10**

_I've never felt this way before  
Everything that I do  
Reminds me of you  
And the clothes you left  
they lie on the floor  
And they smell just like you  
I love the things that you do_

_When you walk away  
I count the steps that you take  
Do you see how much I need you right now?_

_When you're gone  
The pieces of my heart are missing you  
When you're gone  
The face I came to know is missing too  
And when you're gone  
The words I need to hear to always get me through the day  
And make it OK  
I miss you_

The storm raged outside as the castle's students huddled within their dorms and rooms, safe and cozy from the pouring rain and piercing cold. It was already late, and most was already snug in their bed, blankets tucked around them firmly, with only a few left in the Common Rooms finishing their essays. The Professors however, were exceptionally busy that night.

Professor McGonagall, Head of the Gryffindor House, one who was noted for being prim and proper, for being calm and stern, was for once anxious and flustered over the upcoming teachers' meeting. She couldn't wait to tell her fellow staff members about one extraordinary student, and she wasn't praising him because of his well-known title. He truly had exceptional skills and talent.

She approached the door to the meeting room quickly, pulling it open, only to reveal several eager faces already seating in there. She quickly hid her surprise at that – she was always the first to reach the meeting room.

Glancing around surreptitiously, she realized one thing. Filius, Professor Quirrell, Pomona, and the other Professors who were there, all taught the first years. Even Severus who never came early, was already sitting there in his corner! She blinked, startled for a moment, before gathering herself and headed for her seat beside Filius.

The restlessness in the atmosphere was clear. The Professors present were all shifting about, eagerness clear in their eyes. After what seems like an eternity, the door swung open, revealing a stream of the other Professors, with the Headmaster at the back, dressed in his usual peculiar robes, blue eyes twinkling brightly as they looked around, taking in everything.

She righted herself, sitting primly against the back of her chair as her eyes silently urged the Headmaster to quicken his steps. As though mocking her, the steps seemed to be slower, and slower.

When the last sound of the scrapping chairs and greetings ended, Professor Dumbledore rested his chin on his steeped fingers, his eyes flicking from one Professor to another. Slowly, he began to speak.

"Well, I hope that all of you have had an excellent first month. Since this is our first meeting of the school year, I suppose we will start with the customary round of reviewing our students. How have the first years been doing?"

Professor McGonagall nearly burst out in her anticipation, but she was cut off by the exuberant Filius. She had to control herself from directing a scowl at him.

"Excellent, excellent! We have so much talented students this year! People like Miss Granger, who is exceptionally wonderful with her theory, and Mr. Zabini, who is very good with his practical! But, I must say this. There _is _one student that strikes me the most talented and brilliant one!"

The Headmaster leant forward and asked curiously, "Who, Filius?"

Flinging both hands in the air, Professor Flitwick looked like an excited child then as he exclaimed, "Mr. Potter!"

Taking in a deep breath, his hands made all sorts of motions as he plunged on animatedly, "He does things almost instinctively, grasping almost all the concepts effortlessly, as though he had learnt it before! Although his theory is only above average, probably around the Acceptable or Exceeds Expectation grades, his practical can easily score an Outstanding! He truly is an extraordinary child!"

On the opposite side of the table, Professor Sprout was seen nodding away fervently, her eyes almost shimmering with awe as she began speaking, "I hardly ever see a child act so instinctively! It is so rare to see a novice treat their plants so well and so caringly. True, the child's theory might be mediocre, but his hands-on is marvelous!

"The other child that I would dare say is better than him would be Mr. Longbottom. He's completely amazing, so loving towards his plants! I can see that he would be great in Herbology in the future."

Professor Quirrell on the other side of the room then spoke up. "T-that boy is e-excellent in Defense, no doubt a-about it. Too excellent and i-intuitive with h-his practicals. I-I believe that h-he's rather suspicious for doing so w-well. H-headmaster, I would u-urge you to c-check up on him."

Professor McGonagall gave an internal shake of her head at his words. Professor Quirrell was rumored to have met the Dark Lord in one of his trips, leaving him completely traumatized and wary of almost everything, almost like Alastor Moody nowadays.

However, upon checking his memories, Professor Dumbledore could find absolutely nothing, but a faint imprint of his mind being rummaged. For what, no one could be sure, though the Headmaster was sure that there were completely no traces of Dark Lord around or within Professor Quirrell.

Beside her, Professor Sinistra snapped rather brutishly, "What's so good about Mr. Potter? Instinctive, you say? Well, it seems that he doesn't practice his instinct in my class. I don't get him. While other first years are absolutely darling and excited about my classes, Mr. Potter is completely indifferent and bored. He even threw paper airplanes in class! What the nerve!"

Before anyone could say anything, a cold voice cut into the conversation. "Well, perhaps you just have not thought of the fact that he found your class _boring_ and _useless_?"

Professor Sinistra's eyes immediately trained themselves onto the speaker, her eyes glowering in anger as she flared up, banging her hands flat down on the table as she stood up, "Why you! Do you think you're any better, Severus? I bet not one student –"

"Now, now, stop brawling. Settle down. I believe Severus didn't mean what he just said, Sinistra," Professor Dumbledore was quick to act, sitting up straight as he allowed his calm voice to cut through their escalating fight, his blue eyes looking at the both of them warningly.

The duo stared at each other with great dislike for another moment, each refusing to take a step back. The Headmaster gave another cough, and a pointed look at the two teachers. With a huff, Professor Sinistra bestowed Professor Snape another dark glare, before sitting back against her chair.

As though nothing had happened, Professor Dumbledore chirped rather cheerfully, his chin back resting on his fingers, "Well, it seems that Mr. Potter have been quite a controversy, isn't he? Minerva? Severus? What are your views?"

Professor McGonagall quickly snatched the opportunity offered, her back straightening as she began in her usual no-nonsense tone. Her eyes almost sparkled in admiration and excitement. Almost.

"Mr. Potter, I have to agree with Filius and Pomona, is exceptionally good in his practical work. Just a few days ago, in fact, he managed to do a complete Transfiguration of turning a beetle into a button, when students aren't even taught of it yet. I had merely mentioned it, and he managed to succeed in his first try."

"What is perplexing is that he seems to be not hardworking, or studious like his two friends, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, or simply genius in the subject, but it seems…instinctive. As though he had done it before, but of course it is complete rubbish to even suggest that."

Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, silently questioning how she managed to glean that piece of information. She offered her explanation, "It is simply the way he does things. Even a born genius in the subject needs to learn, but the way he prepares for the spell, the way he waves his wand, it seems like he had already done it thousands of times. I don't think he even finds it strange that he can do such things easily. Though, I might be wrong on that count."

"However, I am rather amused by his choice of companions, which are mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws, the only exception being Miss Granger in Gryffindor. The other Gryffindors either hold too much of an awed respect to approach him, or are too scared to talk to him."

The Headmaster's gaze was ponderous for a while, before he turned around and looked at Professor Snape. He merely gave a sneer, and began giving his thoughts on the first years. "Mr. Malfoy is excellent in Potions, and might even succeed in becoming a Potions' Master in the future."

"No views on Mr. Potter, Severus?" Professor Dumbledore's query was calm, but probing. Professor Snape gave another scowl before continuing, "Mr. Potter…I suppose he is rather proficient, and his attitude is…rather tolerant."

He ignored the quiet gasps around the room. He definitely was not going to say that he had gained a little respect for Potter through their first meeting and his surprising proficiency in Potions, even if it was clear that he was not going to be a Master anytime soon. The rumor mill would slaughter him.

The reply was slow, as though the Headmaster was thinking heavily. "I…see. It seems that we have a talent walking through our halls, have we not?"

In an instant, the Headmaster's mood took a swift turn, the thinking aura disappearing to form his usual eccentric one as he questioned, "Let's discuss about the Halloween preparations. Do you suppose the students will love it if we decorated the Hall in lemon drops for Halloween?"

Professor Snape nearly gagged, while Professor McGonagall simply sighed silently, feeling rather resigned. The rest of the Professors had a variety of expressions ranging from shocked to amused.

--

Meanwhile, as the storm continued to pour outside, both Harry and Hermione sat in front of the fire, poring over their books as they tried to battle sleep from overwhelming them. Parchments and quills lay haphazardly over the table as they scribbled incessantly.

A slight movement beside her caught her attention, and she looked up just in time to see Harry shifting on the floor, wearing a glazed look in his eyes as he stared into the fire, his quill hanging loosely between his fingers. Watching him as he submerged into his own thoughts, Hermione chewed on her lips worriedly as she kept her sight on the thin boy.

Harry had been increasingly moody as the days passed. The problem was, no one knew why. There were different theories being churned out though. Draco said that it was a girl problem, which was shot down almost immediately. Harry had totally zero interest in any girls in that way. Daphne suggested that it had something to do with a new environment, but Susan pointed out that Harry hated his relatives and loved Hogwarts. Theodore had wondered if it had something to do with studies, to which the whole group had burst out in laughter. Harry definitely did not need to worry about his studies. Even his worst subjects, Astronomy and History of Magic, were not failing.

The only possible theory, however, came surprisingly from the two quiet bodyguards. They had spoke up after much thought, that Harry might have been thinking of his dead parents. Halloween _was _arriving after all. This theory had cemented Hermione's belief that the two boys had more in their brains that what was shown.

She herself burned with curiosity, but more importantly, concern. He wasn't one of the people to let his own problems affect his work, but it definitely affected his daily activities. She wasn't blind to the growing eye bags under his eyes.

Coughing lightly to get his attention, she asked directly, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Harry slowly turned and met her eyes. She gasped internally. His emerald eyes were swirling with emotions, mixing with such intensity that it scared her.

Hesitantly, she raised her hands to cup his gaunt face, whispering, "What's wrong?"

She thought that she could see tears beginning to form in his eyes, but the view was cut off as he duck his head, almost as if he was shy. His frame was lightly trembling under her touch, and it took a few long seconds before he replied, "I don't know."

Hermione sensed that he wasn't ready to spill out his feelings, and slowly pulled the boy into a hug.

"I'll be here if you need me. Just answer me this. Is it…is it about your parents?" she questioned softly. She was surprised with the vehement shaking of his head. Meeting her eyes with strong resolve, Harry answered firmly, "No."

"No?"

"Don't get me wrong. I respect my parents. Love them in fact. But they are already dead. I have lived eleven years of my life as an orphan, and I've missed them, cried over them and longed for them already. It's…it's weird, but it's about something else. I…I don't know what…" he trailed off, a dark mist shifting across his eyes. He returned the hug briefly and pushed the girl away lightly, giving a smile.

"I'll be fine. It's always like that for the past eleven years. I've gotten used to it. Kind of like a girl's monthly problems, just that mine is annually," he finished off mock-lightly, winking at her.

Pulling away with some regret, Hermione mustered up a warm smile that didn't seem to reach her eyes. "Alright," she replied softly, directing her attention back to her three-feet long essay. Inside though, she had never felt so cold and lonely before.

Gathering up his completed essays and textbooks, Harry eyed her with some regret. Bidding her goodnight, he silently added, 'Maybe someday.'

--

The halls were clustered with swarms of students as they hurried to their classes. A heavy sense of excitement and anticipation hung in the air, reminding the students constantly of the Halloween feast that would be taking place that evening. The giggling and constant chatter of the younger girls were louder than usual, and sifts of conversation concerning how they were going to dress themselves up were heard everywhere. Even when the Headmaster had made it clear that everyone had to wear their school robes.

As Harry, Draco, Hermione and the other two bodyguards headed for their Potions lessons, Harry glanced at two girls that were talking about something along the lines of black nail-polish to match the Halloween theme, and asked curiously, "Why is Halloween such a big thing here? I mean, it's not like we can have trick or treat here…"

Draco cut Hermione to the explanation, stating matter-of-factly, "Halloween, along with many of the Wizarding festive seasons, is important to us culturally. You do know Samhain don't you? It is believed that Samhain is the day where the border between the living world, and the spiritual world is the thinnest, and that the spirits are able to pass over to our world. It is also thought that ghosts or spirits already in this world are able to exert a stronger influence. Well, actually it isn't much of big fuss, but we, as First Years, are having our first time celebrating Halloween in Hogwarts. You realize that the upper years are more sedate about it."

"Oh." He had never understood the delight of Halloween, considering that he had never been allowed out of the house.

"But," Draco continued mock-cheerfully, "no spirits can do as much harm to us as Severus will if we don't get to his class on time."

Hermione gave a slight gasp at that, and quickly pulled the nearest person, which was Crabbe, along.

"We're going to be late! Hurry!" she yelled as she pushed herself through the crowd, earning many protests, all the while pulling poor Crabbe along. Harry laughed, while Draco gave a slightly amused smirk as they followed the girl.

The classes were awfully restless that day, every First Year being excited at celebrating Halloween in Hogwarts for the first time. That had earned quite a bit of reprimanding from the teachers, who noted the lack of attention on the class work that day immediately. Especially in the Potions classroom where more explosions and shrieks have sounded, causing the classroom to be draped with disgusting green and red sludge. It almost looked like Christmas, if one ignored the dank dungeon atmosphere and the continuous dripping of the coloured slime.

He really couldn't wait for Halloween to be over and done with, not just because of the accident-prone students due to their lack of attention, but also because of the sense of dread that had been welling inside of him since the morning.

The day practically dragged, and by the time evening reached, Harry was relieved. Stepping into the Great Hall, he was surprised at how Halloween-ish it looked.

The Hall was beautifully decorated, with black as the background theme, and different bright colours twining tastefully up the pillars and walls. The light in the Hall was carefully dimmed, giving a slightly eerie effect, and the flickering candles placed on the tables amplified it. The ceiling showed the soft moonlight flowing in, filling every space in the Hall. He could feel Hogwarts' magic flowing around the place excitedly, as if something of interest had finally happened.

Students chatted excitedly as they made their way towards their tables, which were draped in their house colours. The First Years were exceptionally excited, eyes round with awe as they glanced around. Harry was glad that he left Eros in the dorms, for she would have been squashed to death in the packed Hall. As he managed to maneuver Hermione, who was busy engrossed in her Charms textbook, through the crowds, he groaned internally when he realized who was beside them.

"Harry!" Ron Weasley chirped, eyes lighting up as he saw who it was. Continuing on cheerfully, he waved his hands towards the boys beside him, who Harry recognized in an instant.

"I'm sure you've seen them before, but I guess I should introduce them proper. They are –"

'Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas…' Harry continued tiredly in his mind.

He already knew of that famous trio, or the self-proclaimed Golden Trio. They were the ultimate fools of their house, and the ones that held the most prejudice against the Slytherins. They were courageous to the point of stupidity, and often got into troubles that were due to their lack of conduct. They skipped classes, played idiotic pranks that always targeted the Slytherins, and were boisterous and loud in their comments. They had earned the disapproval of many teachers, especially Professor Snape, and had resulted in their House Points falling rapidly.

What irritated him the most, was the constant "recruiting" of him into the Trio, and the belief that they were the best buddies. They boasted that they were great friends with the "almighty" Harry Potter, and that they would be "overcoming great obstacles and getting into the most exciting adventures of all times". Needless to say, he ignored them completely.

Giving a terse nod, he allowed himself to be distracted by Hermione, who had been pulling on his sleeve for quite some time.

"Look Harry, this is so _fascinating_! I never knew that the Levitation Charm can be used for malignant purposes! And, oh, look at this! I can't wait to start on Summoning Charms. They are going to be so useful, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry smiled indulgently, about to point out that Summoning Charms were only taught in the fifth year, and that they had to soon get into a seat or else there wouldn't be any left, when he was cut of by Weasley rudely.

"Who cares about that stupid stuff? Come on Harry, don't stick with that know-it-all." Weasley almost sneered at Hermione as he tried to take hold of Harry's arm. Harry made sure he didn't.

Hermione's face turned pale in an instant, her brown eyes taking on a slight tinge of self-pity. Harry hated that look on her face. Still, she managed to retort out, albeit a little weakly and childishly, "Get away from him. He doesn't prefer the company of an idiot."

Harry nearly let out a chuckle at that statement. Weasley turned red, his face twisting into an ugly expression as he taunted, "Oh yeah? You are the nightmare here, Granger! _It's wingardium leviosa, not wingardium levisa. You should stir your potion clockwise for three times, not four! _Merlin, Granger, you are _so _irritating! How can anyone stand you, I'll never know. Stop being a know-it-all! No one likes you here!"

Her brown eyes watered, her whole frame slumped slightly, resignation, loneliness and fear swirling in her eyes. Harry felt an urge to hug her and tell her that everything was untrue, but pressed down on it. He directed a glare towards Weasley, and shouted Hermione to stop as he saw her turning around to run towards the doors. Snarling at Weasley, he yanked him on his collar and pulled, hissing dangerously, "You will pay for this, Weasley."

Weasley's face was an unattractive shade of red as he watched Harry rush off. A pair of gray eyes followed the movement against the crowd, narrowing as he spotted the trademark hair. Walking swiftly and gracefully through the crowd, he managed to catch hold of Harry's wrist just as the both of them exited the Hall. Harry swirled around to glower at whoever it was, though it quickly morphed to an innocent expression.

"Yes Draco?"

"Don't yes me, Harry. What's going on? I just saw Hermione leaving the Hall in _tears._"

Harry quickly related the events to the blond distractedly, itching to just run after the girl. She had looked so distraught that it pained him. Draco narrowed his eyes as he listened on, and when Harry finished off, he only said quietly, "Don't chase after her."

Harry whirled around and looked at him with large eyes, asking incredulously, "What?! You just saw that she was crying! How can I just leave her alone?"

A flash of uncertainty appeared on his pale face, and he spoke hesitantly, "Girls…girls don't really listen to comforting words when they're upset."

Irritated, Harry spat, "Well, maybe you don't, but I'm sure Hermione does! Are you going to just let her be hurt by that Weasel's words?"

An unknown emotion lurked in the shadows of Draco's eyes as he murmured, sounding so reluctant that Harry would have sworn it would be stuttering if it wasn't Draco who was speaking it, "Well, my…my mother said that, er, when girls are upset, they just want to be left alone. So just go sit down and forget about her, ok?"

Harry blinked, slightly surprised at Draco's words.

"I didn't think you would know anything about girls," Harry mused, calming down slightly. His mother _was _a girl...

Draco turned smug, like his normal self as he boasted, "Yeah well, I'm amazing that way."

Harry snorted as he was pushed forcefully towards the Gryffindor table. His instinct screamed at him to follow the girl and comfort her. His childhood years were never pleasant, and he never forgot the tears that rolled down, the yearning that someone would just come for him, and save him. Dread pooled at the base of his stomach as he turned around just in time to see the last sliver of darkness of the corridors as the doors shut.

He wanted to find Hermione, something within him shrieked for him to do so, something so primal that it frightened him. But it was the fright that restrained him, made him unsure, and he wondered about the feeling as he sat down. He didn't see the darkness in Draco's eyes as he waved at him.

The Halloween celebration whirled past him as it progressed on, and the lights and candles and laughing all mixed up in Harry's mind as he sat there. He was far from being a wallflower though; the giggling fan girls took every chance to talk with him. The disturbed feelings burned within him until it distracted him, and he began looking anxiously at the side doors and the main door as though something was about to burst out anytime soon.

He thought he was being too worked up, but Halloween never boded well for him. It wasn't _that _bad per se, but nothing good ever happened. The worst was at one year old when his parents died for him, at two he was forced to do all the house chores, at three he was introduced to Aunt Marge and the dogs that came as a package, at four he was pulled into the first game of "Harry Hunting"… The list went on and on. It didn't help when he felt out of sorts every year during Halloween that completely messed up his system. He didn't understand it, but it was safe to say that he had built up an unhealthy sense of wariness for Halloween, and a sense of self-preservation.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, almost tasting the arrival of whatever misfortune that was about to descend. The tense coil within him snapped when a soft voice suddenly burst into his head, "Save…her…" He recognized the familiar mental voice immediately.

He didn't have time to register that comment, when the front doors slammed open, revealing a disheveled caretaker yelling at the top of his voice, "TROLL IN THE HALLWAYS! RUN!"

In an instant, he sprang out of his seat and ran as Filch was swept up in the swarm of screaming students running out of the Great Hall. Harry ignored the shouts and screams, and the order given by the Headmaster to return back to the dorms. His thoughts were consumed by the brown haired girl that he knew was going to be caught up in the mess, and the crazed look Filch wore when he burst in. He didn't know where his sense of self-preservation flew to as he squeezed his way through the crowd.

He never saw the pair of eyes following his movement.

He crashed bodily into a lithe figure as he managed to slip out of the doors and into the empty hallway, causing the both of them to fall. When he regained his bearings, a rough voice sounded.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Turning around, he saw Draco half-sprawled on the floor, a disgruntled expression on his face.

Harry replied breathily as he hauled himself up, "Hermione. She's out there somewhere, and the troll is too."

Draco's expression turned panicky. His grey eyes flitted left and right, whole body poised to just run back to the dorms as he demanded in outrage, "The troll is out there!"

Harry looked at him as though he was an idiot as he retorted, "Exactly!"

Draco tensed up, his expression turning into one of incredulity and fury as he burst out, "What the hell are you thinking? Or have you really been brainwashed by those stupid Gryffindorks? You are going to get _killed_ if you go find her! She's useless for Merlin's sake! Leave her!"

Harry froze at his words, mouth gaping open as he stared at the blond. He could feel his whole body going numb. Suddenly, he remembered the dark looks and the reluctance when he suggested following Hermione, and the hidden hostility Draco always had towards her. He knew that Draco didn't like her, and resented her friendship with him, but he didn't know it went that deep.

Draco had an almost maniacal look on his face as he continued fearfully, "She's just a Mudblood! Why in the world are you so freaking chummy with that girl?! You should just get rid of her, for Merlin's sake!"

"Why the hell should I?!" Harry yelled back.

"Cos' you hate Muggles!" Draco screamed back with none of his usual decorum.

Harry was speechless for a moment, before determination and anger etched themselves into his expression. Pulling his hand back, he threw his whole weight in front as he punched Draco.

He glared furiously at the crumpled blond, hissing, "Hermione's a friend. I don't care what kind of stupid background she has, but she's my bloody friend, and I'm not going to leave her to her death. You better shut up and change that fucking attitude of yours, bastard."

With that statement, he rushed down the corridor and into the darkness, leaving a shocked Draco gaping at him.

--

He didn't know how long he had been running for, only that the surroundings were so quiet that he could only hear his loud breathing and the tapping of his shoes against the cold stone floor. He looked left and right, hoping to catch sight of frizzy brown hair or the Gryffindor red tie.

No such luck.

He was about to curse out loud when a scream sounded, echoing through the corridors. Harry's shoes screeched as they halted, and he began running in a new direction. He ran through the Hogwarts map in his mind, and realized that he was heading towards the toilets. A crash followed the scream, which was followed by another shriek. Harry ran harder.

It was only when he saw a door flying off its hinges that he stopped, gaping at the destroyed door. Pulling out his wand, he gulped and took a deep breath, before lunging into the toilet. The moment he did so, he made himself fall flat on the ground, and watched as a sink flew above him. Peering into the toilet, his eyes widened at the sight of the most gruesome creature he had ever seen swinging a club-like object everywhere like a toddler who just got his new toy.

"Hermione!" he shouted when he spotted a curled up figure shaking under the broken sinks. Her head rose, and looked at Harry with widening eyes. He sighed in relief when he saw no apparent injuries. She was afraid, but alive.

"Get away –" she began, but finished off with a loud screech as the club crashed into the windows at the side, raising both of her hands trying to shield herself.

Harry looked everywhere as he cursed continuously, hoping to find something that would help. Panic filled him when the club swung precariously near the mirrors above Hermione, and he quickly picked up a piece of rubble and flung it towards the monster's head without thinking. It struck with a heavy thud, and the troll paused for a moment. His breath stopped for a moment when it turned around and faced him.

He watched dumbstruck as the troll swung the club in his direction with no warning, his body shocked. His limbs worked miraculously at the last minute, and he managed to fling himself onto the floor for the second time, ignoring the pain he felt as the fallen rocks and shrapnel cut into him. The club destroyed the walls in its path, and the horrible grating sound made Harry break out in cold sweat. Staring at the destruction caused, he whispered hoarsely, "Fuck."

Turning back, he gave an unmanly shriek when he saw the troll stomping its way towards him. The back of its hand struck Harry, causing him to fly into the nearest wall, knocking the breath out of him and causing pain to shoot up his spine. Hermione screamed his name then, alerting his dazed mind. He opened his eyes just in time to roll to the side, barely escaping the large hands grabbing in his direction.

Scrambling to his feet, he scooted quickly under sinks in a bid to get away from the troll which was blocking the doorway. His eyes flitted from left to right, trying to find a way to escape when the troll roared loudly. He clamped down on his trembling hands, all the while chanting a mantra of repeated curses. Sparing a glance at the frightened Hermione, he racked his brain for something to do. A clench of his fist made him look down.

"Oh yeah…I know magic, don't I?" he murmured, smacking himself for his stupidity.

Gritting his teeth, he allowed his magic to flare as he flicked his wand, and muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

All the rocks and rubble immediately levitated, albeit shakily, and with another flick, they flew towards the troll and rammed into it. The troll reared back as it was attacked, flailing its limbs trying to defend itself from the projectiles. Behind him, Hermione stared wide-eyed at the carnage and Harry's display of power, before grabbing her wand determinedly and levitated the objects one by one. Harry smirked as he relished the feeling of having one up on the monster.

The smirk dropped when he realized it wasn't hurt at all, but rather, even more enraged.

He winced when he saw the doors of the cubicles being torn apart as the troll crashed bodily into them. He quickly moved towards Hermione to pull her out while the troll was busy with the toilet bowls. She shot him a quick grateful smile, and slipped out from her hidey-hole, but before he could react, a door was thrown in their direction. His throat constricted in fear and Hermione clutched tightly onto his arm as they prepared to jump away.

"EVANESCO!"

The yell shocked them out of their frightened states, and with a squint of his eyes, he managed to recognize a familiar blond figure standing at the door with his wand out through the dust. Hermione gasped in surprise when the door disappeared right in front of them.

"Draco!" the both of them yelled in relief as they crawled out from under the sinks. So relieved they were of receiving help, they forgot all about the still-very-much-alive troll.

A grunt was the only warning they had before a large grisly hand shot out from the cubicles. Hermione screamed while Draco acted quickly, pushing the three of them right back under the sinks. It smashed into the mirrors, sending the shards everywhere, some cutting into their skins. Right after that, a club swung into their view, and they could nothing but to stare at it, paralyzed with fear, being stuck under the sinks with nowhere to escape to.

Trapped.

I am going to die.

The icy-cold certainty sunk firmly in Harry's heart as the trio closed their eyes and huddled together. He took a shuddering breath as tears burned his eyes and throat as he looked frantically for a way out. He didn't know why he was crying, all he knew was that he was frightened. Much more frightened then during the time when he was cornered by Dudley, or when he had been viciously bitten by Marge's dogs. Merlin, he felt like a bloody girl.

_..."Tom…Tom!" a trembling voice spoke up. Emerald eyes wide and brimming with tears staring imploringly up into concerned crimson ones. A firm but gentle hand on the wrist, soothing touches around the bleeding wound, and an uncharacteristic softness in the eyes. A quiet whimper when pain shot up his arm, hurt clear on the pale face._

"_They will pay," an icy-cold voice hissed, rare emotions flickering in the smoldering crimson. A hope-filled beam, a touched expression as he sensed the protectiveness. A hidden frown as he swore to take care of those who hurt all of his … _

"Tom…" a soft whisper tore from his rough throat. The adrenaline from being chased finally wore down, and now as he stared helplessly at the attacking troll, all he could feel was confusion, weariness and fear. He definitely didn't feel anything like a powerful wizard should feel. He hated the taste of dread in his tongue, hated the strange things he was feeling right then, hated everything that just happened.

He hated the fact that he didn't understand _anything_.

His head hurt terribly, and his whole body shook. Clenching his jaw, he struggled to stay conscious, despite feeling despair at the whole situation. Suddenly, an intoxicating swash of magic washed through the whole toilet, leaving Harry a little dizzy. There was a loud thump, and the whole place shook for a moment, before it was followed by silence. Feeling the others still shivering beside him, he cracked open his eyes nervously.

He held back a gasp as he saw a misty figure standing right beside the fallen troll. Squinting his eyes to see through the flying debris, he realized that the man was no Professor. Cloaked in blood red, with fitting black robes, the man was tall and imposing. Harry tried to shift himself to take a look at his face, but the man remained with his back towards them. The man's hand made a slashing movement, and the choking dust in the air instantly cleared, giving Harry a clear view. A weird sort of desperation grew within him, and he tried to clamber out of the tangle of limbs.

The man felt familiar. But he couldn't place who. His eyelids were heavy like lead, yet he fought to remain awake. He had started to breathe heavily as his vision began to blur. But he held on. Somehow, he told himself, he had to hang on. As the man turned, his breath caught. His world spun terribly, but ironically, his body suddenly felt peaceful, and all the emotions that had erupted before disappeared. It was as if something exploded within him, yet everything was alright.

It had never felt so right in his life.

Crimson met emerald, as Harry finally gave in, spiraling into darkness. The tears that were brimming in his eyes finally fell, but there was a gentle smile.

A same name was whispered again as his eyes closed.

_We were made for each other  
Out here forever  
I know we were  
Yeah Yeah_

_All I ever wanted was for you to know  
Everything I do I give my heart and soul  
I can hardly breathe I need to feel you here with me  
Yeah_

_When you're gone  
The pieces of my heart are missing you  
When you're gone  
The face I came to know is missing too  
When you're gone  
The words I need to_ _hear will always get me through the day  
And make it OK  
I miss you_

_- When You're Gone by Avril Lavigne_

* * *

**_YAY! Hope you loved the chapter(: I know I did. Tom finally reappears, what can ya ask for?! (Yeah I know its a rather nice cliffy there, ain't it?) Oh, and those who were spoiled by the quick updates, sorry to inform you, but you guys will have to wait for the next chapter XD._**

**_Alright guys, REVIEW!! I want your comments! I will love ya forever if you review! Old readers! Please review!_**

**_- Myxa_**


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Nope, nope, nope. ...Still nope.**

_Hi! This chapter's a little...boring? Cos' this chapter's about the aftermath, and aftermath always means tying up loose ends XD. Anyway, sorry about this, but my updates will be kind of on and off now, because my college life has started! And as we all know, college life equals to busy life LOL. So please pardon me for any late updates(:_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 11**

Hermione looked at the prone figure lying on the hospital bed, chewing on her lip and a lock of her hair guiltily. Her eyes traced the scratches and bruises that were visible on the scrawny arms and legs, a burden weighing heavily in her heart. It was all of her fault. If she hadn't been so emotional, hadn't been so stupid as to mind that Weasley's words, she wouldn't have met the troll, and wouldn't have placed both hers, Harry's, and even Draco's life in danger. It was all her fault.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly, another hand clutched tightly at her skirt. A hand fell on her shoulder and she stiffened slightly.

"It isn't your fault, Hermione," a soft voice sounded from behind her. She didn't have to turn to know who it was. Even the softness couldn't hide the cultured tone that had been bred for years.

She couldn't hold it in. A single tear made its way down her cheeks as she sniffled and gave a strangled whisper, "Not my fault? If n-not for me, H-Harry wouldn't be lying here!" She turned around and looked at Draco with wild eyes as she continued, "How can you say it's not my fault? Harry w-wouldn't have been injured if I weren't so stupid –"

A gentle hand cupped over her mouth, stopping her whispered rant. Wide brown eyes met calm grey as Draco murmured, "It isn't your fault, Hermione. Harry could have chosen not to save you, but in the end he did, and I'm glad that he did when I didn't, or you would have died."

Hermione's eyes softened as she heard the regret in his voice, and said, "It doesn't matter if you hadn't wanted to save me at first, but it matters that in the end you did. But I wish I hadn't been so stupid –"

"It was his choice, not yours. It was his choice. Our choice," Draco said firmly, with a steely tone as he grasped her arms tightly, cutting off her words.

She closed her eyes in a bid to get a hold of herself, gulping in deep breaths of air as she eased her emotions. Draco relaxed his hold on her arms and moved back a few steps to give her space. For a few moments, all they could hear was breathing.

"He was amazing. Confronting that beast, killing it. I didn't even know how he did it. One moment the beast was up, the next it was down," Hermione spoke up suddenly, pride in her voice, yet with slight trembling, as though afraid to recount that particular adventure.

Draco didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that statement. "Yeah, amazing. Acted like a real Gryffindor. And like any Gryffindor, it got him into this state," he retorted bitterly, waving his hand feebly at the prone figure.

She bit her lip and looked away. Draco quickly recollected himself and settled into a blank stare.

"He'll be alright, right?" she asked quietly, eyebrows knitted together in worry.

Lips tweaking into a smirk, Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on, he survived the Killing curse. Nothing's going to be worse than that."

Hermione giggled a little, replying, "Harry's going to hit you for that, you know? He hates it when people talk about that particular event."

The blond attempted a smile, but failed spectacularly when his grey eyes gleamed suspiciously with what looked like tears.

"I'd rather he hits me, than just sleeping there," he whispered.

The duo slumped back into the brooding silence at that statement, interrupted only by the rustling of clothes on Hermione's part as she clenched and unclenched her skirt.

Harry had taken the brunt of the attack, being showered with glass and falling shrapnel as he covered Hermione. Coupled with stress and magical exhaustion, it was no surprise that he would collapse at the end. But the unconsciousness wasn't supposed to last for longer than a day, and it had already been a day and a half, almost two, judging by the orange light the Hospital wing was bathed in.

The worry almost drove both Draco and Hermione nuts. Even Hermione, who was obsessed with lessons, skipped them in the beginning just to keep vigil at his bed side, until Draco dragged her to the afternoon classes. The incident pushed the both together for comfort, and Draco couldn't bring push her away. Not when he still felt guilt.

The both of them looked on somberly as Madam Pomphrey bustled in and out, occasionally checking in on Harry.

--

… _Warmth emanating from arms circling around him, a deep sense of peace falling over them._

_Determined glint in narrowed eyes as long, elegant fingers twirled his wand, a wary stance as he crouched in preparation for any sudden attacks._

_Fingers wiping away tears tenderly, elation and long-lost completion emerging for the first time as the same fingers linked both of their hands together, and with a tug, saved him from his hell. _

_The same feeling of happiness and completion like yin and yang as their bodies finally joined as one, souls humming with delight._

_Being lost in those endless crimson eyes, loving how he had a particular shade to himself, where his eyes burned a deep, serious red that reminded him of molten lava when he uttered his most favourite phrase, "I love you"… _

It was as though watching a quickly flashing television, the images moving so fast that it was quite impossible to catch any of it. He didn't understand what was going on, but somehow or another he _did. _

It all seemed to be fading in, and out, until everything simply disintegrated and floated away, just like he was in a dream, where he could never remember what was shown to him.

Thick fog replaced everything, but his limbs weren't cooperating as he tried to wade through, and everywhere looked bleak to him. Trawling through seemed like a pain, what with his head swimming with weariness and his whole body feeling like it was laden with lead or something equally heavy. Voices that he couldn't make out floated in and out, and he felt fleeting touches now and then. Everything was in such a haze that he wondered vaguely if he was hallucinating.

Despite the desire to just crawl back to the comfortable and cozy darkness before all the images showed up, he continued his struggle to fight against the daze and paralysis-like state he was in. He had to wake up.

--

A cough was the first thing that alerted the half-asleep duo and the nurse that possessed fox-like ears. Madam Pomphrey was circling his bed like a hawk before the other two students could even completely comprehend what that cough meant. Harry fought to keep his eyelids open, but every muscle was protesting. His whole body felt weird to him, and something kept prodding at his consciousness. Something was waiting for him. Where, what, when? He didn't know.

He felt groggy, and all his eyes showed him was blurriness and vague silhouettes. After a few blinks, familiar appearances came into his vision.

"How are you, Mr. Potter?" a clipped, professional voice asked.

His head was pounding hard and his throat felt like a withered plant as he blinked mutely at Madam Pomphrey, trying to regain his bearings. When he finally realized he had to reply her, he opened his mouth and tried to speak, only to cough in a croaking voice. The nurse immediately handed him a glass of water, which he downed gratefully.

As his throat finally felt like it wasn't about to die, he tried again, ignoring the nausea welling up within him, "I'm fine. How many days was I out for?"

Madam Pomphrey pursed her lips, taking out her wand and replied, "Two."

Harry blinked; the only sign of his shock. Madam Pomphrey began casting several diagnostic spells as she took advantage of his silence, and his eyes widened as he saw the wand light up in a familiar crimson colour. Images from his dreams flashed in his head, and he jerked a little. His heart beat sped up, unfamiliar emotions surging within him. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadied himself, as his vision started to blur and his headache doubled.

The nurse narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could point out anything, a body was flung onto him, and he found himself in a body-binding hug and the recipient of loud sobbing and intelligible murmuring. Recognizing the frizzy brown hair in an instant, he raised his hand and patted on Hermione's back awkwardly, murmuring, "I'm alright now."

Harry stiffened as a drawling voice spoke up, "Alright? You look half dead."

Turning his head around, he peered up at the blond, their eyes meeting. For a moment, they stared at each other without speaking, until Draco looked away, flushing a tiny bit. Harry let out the first small smile since he had woken up, understanding dawning in him. Switching his attention back to the nurse, he squirmed as she pinned him under her scrutinizing stare.

"You're to stay in the hospital wing for the next three days for observation," she stated primly.

She gave him a look, daring him to protest. Harry didn't even have the energy to fight back. Sighing internally, he resigned himself to another few more days in the sanitized, white, four-walled, boring Hospital Wing.

"And don't you dare _sneak out of the hospital wing_ again, Mr. Potter," she continued in a warning tone as she walked over to a cupboard fetch some potions. Despite his migraine and weariness, he still managed to blush as Draco looked at him half-accusingly, half-amusedly. He forgot that Draco didn't know what happened.

Taking the first potion offered with a reluctant hand, he looked at that milky white liquid suspiciously. When he finally recognized the muscle relaxant, he drank it in a gulp as Madam Pomphrey asked, "Does your head hurt? Is your vision clear? Does your muscles ache?"

"Head hurts, vision clear, muscles are a little sore," he replied promptly, face settling back to his usual impassiveness.

"Do you remember what happened? Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy had informed me that you were the one who had saved them. Do you remember anything about it? What did you do?"

Harry's blank mask cracked a little as his eyes widened. He clutched the blankets in reflex. He…saved them? No. It wasn't him.

He remembered the shards of glass and rubble hitting him with a painful vengeance, and the loud creaks and crashes echoing continuously around as walls and supporting structures gave way and glass shattered under the assault of the blunt weapon. He remembered the desperation he felt and the helplessness in that sudden moment when he thought that they were utterly done for, and he remembered the great big ugly brute that stomped around like a child throwing a tantrum, albeit being much more dangerous.

But one thing that etched itself firmly into his mind stood out the most.

The impressive presence that stood regally in front of the troll, the graceful movements and the tantalizing magic, coupled with the sense of familiarity. The man was the one who had saved them, whose presence had called out to him, and had evoked so many emotions within him. But strangely enough, he couldn't remember the face. Only the eyes.

Those crimson eyes…

…_Tom…_

Harry shuddered, sweat trickling down the nape of his neck as he bit out, "N-no."

"No?"

"No. I don't remember anything."

He took in deep breaths discreetly to calm himself down, palms pressing into the mattress as he waited for his palpitating heart to slow down. A secret, he thought. The whole event would be a secret. He would not refute what the others thought, he would not tell the truth. Something told him not to tell, and he wholeheartedly agreed.

"Very well then, I suppose you are tired. Have some rest. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, please return to your Houses. It is already close to your curfew," Madam Pomphrey said curtly as she began arranging his pillows.

Some hesitant shuffling was heard as the duo moved silently out of the hospital wing. Harry directed a reassuring smile at the both of them who were clearly worried till they were out of his sight.

Turning around to face the nurse, he noted dully that the nurse was looking at him with a strange expression. She sighed after a few moments, handing him the second potion. He eyed the thick blue potion, hesitant about drinking it. It didn't look at all familiar to him.

"That is Dreamless Sleep. Drink it up and go to sleep," she stated calmly.

Gulping it down tentatively, he murmured, "Thank you."

The nurse didn't say anything as she switched off the lights and tucked him in. As he was falling asleep, he felt a soothing hand running through his hair, and a whispered goodnight.

--

"_Stupid boy…Idiotic child who refuses protection… Mice…Get himself into coma…"_

Harry stirred as soft hissing sounded in his ear. His bed creaked as he shifted slightly. Cracking his tired eyes open in the darkness, he blinked a few times before he could finally see in the dark.

"_Troublemaker of a boy…Fighting trolls, good Merlin…Mice…"_

"_Eros?"_ Harry hissed curiously as he pulled himself up into a half seating position supported by his elbows.

Peering over the edge of the bed, his suspicions were confirmed as he saw the green snake was half-coiled on the floor beside his bed, head raised so that she was looking up at him.

"_Carry me up. This floor's too cold,"_ she grumbled, irritation flashing in her black beady eyes.

Tongue-tied for a moment, Harry numbly reached down and carefully hoisted her up onto the bed. Eros hissed in pleasure as she felt the warmth of the sheets, uncurling herself to her full length as she lounged on the bed, taking up almost half of it. Harry simply watched in bewilderment as she made herself comfortable, merely protesting weakly at the end, "You're taking up too much space."

In an instant, half of her was rounding up on him as she retorted, _"Taking too much space?! You better get used to this, Potter! I am so going to stay by your side for the rest of your life! Ooh! How dare you not let me go with you on Halloween! Just because of that stupid rebellious act where you said 'I can protect myself!' you get hurt and land yourself here! Stupid humans."_

Harry stared back at her as she finished her rant, lips breaking out in a sheepish smile.

"_How dare you laugh!" _the snake protested, black eyes flashing.

Harry reached over and pulled the snake into a hug, though careful not to squash it. Giggling a little, he hissed teasingly, _"Aww, Mummy's worried."_

Eros huffed in irritation, retorting, _"You're lucky that you escaped alive!" _

Harry froze at that comment, his mind dredging up the memories that he had temporarily suppressed in favour of sleep. He was lucky, yes, lucky that they were saved by the man.

_The man_, his head reeled at the thought of him.

He didn't know why he was so affected. Every time he thought of that incident, every time the figure of the man flashed in his mind, something would lurch within him, and he would break out in cold sweat, pulse racing. His head ached, and the pair of unique crimson eyes haunted the recesses of his mind. He couldn't remember how the man actually looked, but something told him that it was important. He was important.

"_Eros,"_ Harry whispered suddenly, emerging from his thoughts, _"how can you find someone?"_

The snake looked at him strangely, black eyes glinting with something unknown. _"Well…what do you know about that someone?"_

Laying down so that he was side by side with her on the bed, he replied, diving into his short memories about his encounter that lasted only for a few seconds with the man.

"_He's very, very powerful, and he has crimson eyes. I think he looks like a ghost somehow; he has that translucent skin, though it's much more opaque than the ghosts around here. I'm not sure about his name, but I think he's called Tom."_

Eros was silent for a few moments.

"_Why are you trying to find him?" a curious hiss questioned._

Harry paused. Why was he trying to find that man? Covering his eyes with his arm, he gave a sigh.

"_I don't really know. Curiosity? Gratitude? The man did save my – our lives, you know? It's just, something tells me to find him. I really want to know who he is."_

"_It's rare for you to want to get close to someone. You only let pinhead and the mouse-haired in, for unfathomable reasons mind, despite the fact that there are probably hundreds of brats waiting to be your friend. And – what did you mean by the man saved your life? Weren't you the big hero that saved the day?"_

Harry scowled deeply, recognizing the various insults Eros weaved into her reply.

"_For the umpteenth time, Draco isn't a pinhead and Hermione's hair is of a darker brown than that of mice! And you know perfectly well that those brats aren't trustworthy anyway, so you can't blame me for being distant!"_ he groaned, before lowering his tone to an inquisitive one, "_and why does everyone think that I'm the big hero anyway? Didn't the both of them see him?"_

Eros gave an imitation of a human shrug as she replied nonchalantly, _"Whatever. The two human brats just said that the troll was up one second, making a huge ruckus, and when they looked up, it was down, you were fainting and the whole toilet was saturated with magic."_

"_How did you know? No, wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know," _Harry deadpanned, frowning at her.

She gave his a snake's imitation of a shark-like grin, hissing, "_Well, if you want to find whoever that someone is, I suppose you can try those flimsy papers that you humans love to stick your noses in? If he is that powerful, wouldn't he be in there?"_

Harry's eyes widened.

Lunging over to give the snake a strangling hug, he replied excitedly, "_You're a genius!"_

Eros' only reply was a choking protest and a whacking tail.

--

He sighed as Hermione lunged at him the instant they saw him standing outside of the hospital wing.

"Oh Merlin, I'm so glad that you're fine now!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like tears. Behind her, Draco couldn't stop smiling in delight.

Harry blinked in surprise; he hadn't thought that they were so worried. In the whole healing daze and thinking of upcoming research plans, he hadn't much paid attention to his two friends after the first sobbing fest where Hermione had repeatedly apologized, only for him to smack her on her head as he told her that it was natural to save her as she was his friend. Pulling her into a willing hug, he reassured, "I'm fine now."

Releasing her, he walked over to Draco. The two of them stared into each other's eyes for a moment, and Harry's jaw clenched in determination. It was now or never. Pulling him into a one-handed hug, he asked, "We're still friends, right?"

Grey eyes flickered uncertainly from him to the hopeful girl, as something settled in his eyes and he nodded minutely. Harry broke out into a wide grin and hugged him again, causing him to blush.

The school seemed quiet for a Saturday morning, as the trio met no one as they trouped down the halls to head towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione rattled on and on about the lessons held for the whole week he had been out, with Draco adding in a little, and he listened patiently. He would rather not spend all his extra time working through missed lessons.

Waiting for the moving staircase to stop, Harry asked casually, "Anyway, I forgot to ask, but what happened after that whole troll incident?"

Hermione flushed as Draco teased, "Hermione here took all the blame for herself so that the two of us wouldn't be punished. I would have stopped her, if not for the fact that I was busy gaping at her Gryffindorish tendencies."

Harry grinned and relaxed at the sight of Draco's laughing expression, knowing that he meant no harm. "What punishments? And what about Weasel?"

Their faces darkened at the mention of that red head, and Draco spat, "Fifty point deduction for us, but that Weasel got scot-free, even when we told Professor McGonagall about it. That son of a bitch…ugh."

Harry's eyes flashed for a moment, and he growled angrily, "What?"

"He denied ever insulting me, and acted like some goody goody two shoes. Professor McGonagall couldn't do anything, though I think she believed us," Hermione spat irritably, creasing her forehead as she scowled.

Harry cursed softly as they neared the Great Hall. Pushing the door open, the trio fell quiet and switched subjects, though their expressions remained disgruntled. Exchanging looks that agreed to meet later, they separated.

The Hall was almost empty as it was still early in the morning, with only a few teachers up on the table, and less than twenty of the students filling the House tables. Draco moved to join Theo at the Slytherin table, while Hermione and Harry walked to the Gryffindor table.

"Hey," a soft voice greeted as they reached the table. Looking up, he found himself smiling at Neville.

Swinging her legs over the bench, Hermione chirped with a bright smile, "Morning, Neville."

Harry scooped himself a bowl of porridge as he greeted back, "Hey."

Neville timidly looked down at his bowl as he stirred the contents, and spoke quietly, "I'm glad you are alright. You looked so distracted and unwell you know? That night Ron…well, on Halloween's night."

Harry swallowed a gulp of pumpkin juice, choking slightly as he remembered that night.

"I heard what happened, and Ron really went too far. I wish Professor McGonagall would punish him, but none of our year mates dare to speak out," Neville continued, wrinkling his forehead as he pushed a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Frowning, he looked at Hermione questioningly. She promptly replied, face flushing a slight angry red, "That Weasel – sorry Neville, Weasley had been insulting people left and right. At least, only for the first years. The upper years don't know, and no one dared to tell the Professors after our failed try."

Harry clenched his hands and gripped his goblet tightly, glowering at the innocent looking porridge bowl. Emerald eyes glinting with fury, he suddenly stood up. Directing his question at Neville, he asked, "Are his brothers like him?"

He shook his head mutely, blinking at him in shock at the sudden question. "Umm, no. Percy's real helpful when it comes to studies, and Fred and George are a great deal of fun."

Harry gritted out tersely, "Good. I'm off to write…a letter."

The two Gryffindors gaped at his back as he walked tensely out of the Hall.

--

_Dear Fred and George Weasley (Or Gred and Forge), _

_I shall be straightforward. Your youngest brother, Ronald, has managed to be a nuisance to the rest of the First Years by insulting and making trouble for them. I will, on behalf of the rest of my year mates, be exacting revenge, of sorts, if you get what I mean. I would like to request for your help in this endeavour. If you agree, please meet me at the Gryffindor common room on Monday night._

_Cheers to our possible cooperation,_

_Harry James Potter_

Two contemplating looks were exchanged as mischievous glints appeared in their eyes. The two red headed twins stood up simultaneously, each wearing identical devilish smirks and calculating eyes. The people around them instantly moved away when they glanced at them, feeling some sort of anxiety and thrill as they registered that familiar look.

The twins were about to strike again.

"Pompous way of putting things, but definitely an interesting request. How about it, my dear Forge?"

"Seems like our dearest Ronniekins have gotten on the bad side of our magnificent Boy-Who-Lived. Of course we shall try to get our lovely brother back on the right side of things!"

--

Tuesday found a red faced Ron Weasley tied up, dangling from the ceiling of the Great Hall with nothing but boxers that are yellow with neon pink polka dots, hair switching colours every five seconds, "I'm the world's largest asshole" painted on his chest with bright green paint, spouting nonsensical sentences such as "I love Slytherin", "Professor McGonagall has the cutest butt", and "Professor Snape is sexy" constantly.

The professors had no idea whether to laugh or cry, but no one seemed to have the idea of letting him down. The students, especially the First Years, had a hell of a time laughing at the predicament of Weasley. The girls kept bursting into fits of giggles every time they looked up, while the boys hooted loudly in laughter and pointed at the hanging boy every now and then, snickering.

Weasley's face turned redder and redder by the minute, and began shouting at the top of his voice, but everything that came out, was of course something as ridiculous as "Professor Dumbledore and Professor Vector are shagging!", which caused the whole Hall to burst out in laughter.

The three perpetrators held proud smirks on their faces as they glowed at all the hidden praise. No outright compliments of course; they didn't dare get them into trouble.

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_All mistakes are purely mine._

**Review, review, review! Please?**

**-Myxa**


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me.**

_Hellos! It's been a long long time since I've updated (whoops), and I'm terribly sorry. BUT! If you guys have read the notice in my profile, I suppose you should understand my predicament. My life has been, and will be, super duper busy for this two years, at least till I graduate from college. So do pardon me for any lack of updates. I shall repeat again. I will NOT give up writing Transcendence or any fanfiction for that matter._

_Now, please enjoy! (PS. this chapter has not been looked through very thoroughly, simply because I rushed this out for you guys. Thus, if there are any mistakes, please tell me)_

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**Chapter 12**

Bright sunlight shone into the empty library through the large clear windows, blue skies beckoning invitingly for all to enjoy a day out. Only a few people, hardly enough to fill much of the tables, were scribbling furiously and engrossed in their work. In a corner hidden by many bookshelves, yellowed newspapers littered a table and the surrounding floor. Thick leather books piled up on the only newspaper-free corner and the whole area would have seemed to void of any sign of life, if not for the mop of raven hair tucked right behind the tall stack of books.

The sound of flipping pages was heard as emerald eyes looked intently at every single photo in the leather-bound book and the small tags that accompanied them. His fingers came to the end of the book and he let out a soft sigh as he realized that he was let down again. Shutting his eyes briefly to soothe the prickling feeling behind his eyes that came from reading for too long, he closed the book and rested it on his lap.

He had spent the past week poring at every single newspaper available, which to his disappointment, only had till 1960, staring at every article. Refusing to give up even after his efforts was in vain, he restarted his search by poring over the Hogwarts school books, figuring that there was a high chance that the man came from Hogwarts. Hogwarts was after all, one of the top schools in Europe.

But it was all for naught. For up till 1980, there was completely no hint of the man in the books.

He covered his face with his palms, breathing in deeply as he tried to ease his weariness and frustration. Crimson flashed at the back of his mind, and he groaned. He hated it. He hated how the memories kept assaulting his dreams, and how everything just stuck in his head, refusing to leave.

He glared viciously at the messy table, annoyance and irritation bubbling up within him. He felt so tired. He just wanted to know. He had to know. And to make it worse, he didn't even know why he wanted to know who that man was.

He was so confused.

He wanted to scream. Clenching his jaw, he gripped the edge of the table tightly as he kicked the piece of newspaper lying innocently at his feet in a bid to release his frustration. Puffing his cheeks out a little in exasperation, he looked away forlornly as he realized immediately how childish he was.

A flash of black at the spot he was staring at caught his attention, and he bent over to pick up the stray piece of newspaper.

Dumbledore Refuses To Take Up Minister Post!

Dumbledore Encourages All To Stand Against You-Know-Who!

Two large articles filled the page he was holding up, with plenty of photos lining the corners and sides. He skimmed through the article, grimacing when he saw the number of people killed or missing. He winced slightly when he caught sight of a particularly gruesome murder, the green skull, trademark of Voldemort, burning eerily in the background.

For a moment, Harry was entranced by the mark, slim fingers tracing over the vague figure of it. It felt…tainted, somehow. He frowned slightly when something panged within him, almost like regret. Shaking his head to clear it, he rubbed his eyes a few times before averting his eyes to look at the rest of the article.

"Headmaster Dumbledore encourages all to believe in Aurors… be cooperative with Ministry… refuses to be Minister as he believes in educating the future generation…advises the public to stand strong…stay united…fair treatment to all…" Harry mumbled under his breath as his forehead creased slightly.

Tossing his head back, he scowled terribly at the ceiling. The whole situation felt ironic. Why would Dumbledore refuse to be Minister, when he clearly continued to meddle and manipulate political situations?

He was _weird._

Feeling irritated, he flipped the paper to the next page, only to blink in surprise. The whole paper was filled with articles detailing the carnage of the war, and the many measures taken to try suppress the Death Eaters. He frowned when he saw the image of Dumbledore plastered on almost every page, while laws like registration of Werewolves and banning of named Dark creatures in public areas screamed out at him from the paper.

He flipped the pages continually, narrowing his eyes as he took in how the war affected the Wizarding World, only to come to a halt when he reached the last page. A large picture was featured right at the top, with the title bolded below. What caught his attention, however, wasn't the article this time round, but the picture.

The man had red eyes.

Not exactly crimson, a shade darker than that, but it was red.

His heart skipped a beat as he withheld a breath. Trembling fingers reached hesitantly towards the photo, but halted just a mere inch away. Terrible, cruel red eyes that hid a bitter soul locked with terrified emerald eyes, and for an instant, Harry couldn't breathe.

Everything just simply didn't add up.

He swallowed tightly as he stuffed the paper frantically into his bag. With a snap of his wand, he sent all the books and newspapers flying back to their original positions.

With bloodshot eyes, Harry stared unblinkingly at the scene before him as he entered his favourite corner in the library. He was so tired that he couldn't really comprehend the logic behind the whole thing.

"Damn you, Malfoy! Return me that book!" Hermione screeched in an enraged tone, her brown hair frizzy and flying everywhere, her body shaking angrily as fury took over her brown eyes.

"Nope. You would just have to get it for yourself, won't you?" Draco drawled, his body leaning partially on the nearby shelf, his wand pointing idly at the said book that was levitated high.

His grey eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched Hermione trying to jump up and reach the book. Apparently, with all her genius mind, she couldn't remember the existence of magic at that moment.

Sighing internally, he pulled out his wand and casted the Silencing spell – he had specially learnt it for them – around the brawling duo. Even if they _were_ at the furthest corner of the library, their noise was escalating enough to warrant the mean Madam Pince's attention.

Under his robes, he could make out irritated hisses from the half-asleep Eros, something that sounded suspiciously liked, "_Bloody bratsss who can't ssshut their bloody mouthsss…_" He quickly hushed her, careful not to let his two friends hear her, tucking away the agreeing smile.

Pulling one of the chairs out, he seated himself and preoccupied himself with rubbing his head in a bid to relax himself.

It was rather amusing at first, actually, to see the usually mature and level-headed Hermione lose control and rage at the aloof blond, who was the serious and disdainful one, when he actually played a trick at her.

Harry wondered if it was Draco's way of teasing the girl, when he wouldn't scorn her in any way. Though, he must admit that Draco looked like he was having fun. Loads of fun at seeing the brown hair frizz up, at seeing her brown eyes blaze with anger, at seeing her neatly pressed robes get rumpled up and so on.

"Your hair frizzed up again," Draco said in a faked bored tone, his eyes brightening up mischievously as he stared at her with something akin to delight.

Harry snorted as Hermione took the bait and began screaming at the blond. Point proven. The blond simply stood there, looking amusedly at her as she continued to rant and point and shriek. Harry was absolutely sure that Draco loved getting under her skin.

He groaned slightly when Hermione's voice cracked on a high note, causing pain to shoot up in his head. Perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep, or the frustration of his research not bearing any fruit, but he had been having terrible headaches. It didn't help matters when Hogwarts began to show a strange interest in him by spouting words and phrases that were almost incoherent. It was always some variations of 'evil man', 'stone', 'traps' and some other words that didn't make sense at all.

"GIVE THEM BACK!"

The shriek snapped Harry from his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see not just one book was floating up in the air, but three, along with parchment and quills.

Giving an annoyed sigh, he pushed his chair back and hoisted up his books and turning around swiftly, making his way out of the library without a single word. The first few times of seeing them bicker were amusing and funny to an extent, but after enduring it for a few months, it really got tiring and irritating. They had even quarreled on Christmas, a day that was meant for peace and joy, two weeks ago.

The bickering couple didn't even notice his departure. In fact, he was sure they hadn't even realized that he even arrived.

He calmed down a little as he felt the breeze blowing against him the moment he stepped out of the library. He was feeling better already. Glancing around, he began to walk in a random direction, deciding to wander aimlessly about the castle, at least until he found something of his interest.

He whistled a soft tune as he wandered down the first corridor he turned into. To be honest, he had already known the place like the back of his hand, due to the long hours he spent exploring Hogwarts after curfew.

…Yes, he did know that he would be in great trouble if caught, and Hermione would smack him for doing it, but hey, what people did not know didn't hurt them.

He slowed down as he spotted a shadow emerging at the end of the hallway. A glimpse of wavy blonde hair alerted him of the person's identity as he put on a polite smile.

"Daphne. Aren't you free this afternoon?"

"Hey Harry." The Slytherin's sweet voice and inviting expression was switched on almost immediately when she realized who he was. "I see that you're free too. Why not join me for a walk around the school grounds?"

She smiled coyly as she fluttered her long eyelashes at him, hoping to work her charm on him. He merely stared blankly back at her. She dropped her pretense when she realized his lack of interest. Sighing, she gave a normal smile as she replied, "Did you see any of the first year Slytherins? Draco perhaps? I can't seem to find them…"

Shrugging, he pointed back towards the library. Not waiting for any reply, he continued to make his idle way across the hall. He distantly heard Daphne mutter lowly, "The library? He hates books..."

Turning round the corner, he halted in his tracks once again when something sounded in his head.

'Third floor…corridor…go in…Harry…'

Hiding a wince at the sharp spike of pain in his head the voice caused, Harry's eyebrow rose at that statement.

Was that Hogwarts? That had to be the first statement he could make sense out of her since the start of the school year. Her conversation usually came in the form of snippets and words that did not connect in any way.

"Go…in…"

He bit his lip as he pondered Hogwarts' suggestion, his eyes flicking to the corner that would lead him up to the third floor corridor. Third floor…what was it about the third floor? A figurative light bulb lit up when he was suddenly struck by the memory of the Headmaster's words at the beginning of the year.

_Do not go near the third floor corridor, lest you are seeking a horrible death._

Harry would be nothing if not for his self-preservation, and he was smart enough to know the danger behind the Headmaster's words despite it being ridiculous, unlike the most of the school where they laughed it off.

Silly people. At least Draco and Hermione knew better.

Shaking his head slightly, he extended his magic into his mind and replied Hogwarts, 'No, Hogwarts. Despite the fact that I don't like the old coot, his words have to count for something if he says that there's danger. After all, it is his school.'

He felt Hogwarts' magic spike up slightly, as though in frustration, before its staggered reply came. 'Go in…things to…find out…Don't…let him…control…Using you…stone…'

His forehead creased as he listened to her, feeling the slightest bit of unease at her words. 'Things to find out? What things? And, who's the man, and what about a stone?' Harry questioned rather skeptically.

It wasn't as if he didn't believe Hogwarts. He did. After all, it was the things that happened within her. She had to know. However, he also knew that her meaning of certain things were different from his.

'Things…traps…set up…for you…Tests for…you…'

Harry was baffled. Traps were set up for him? Who wanted to test him? And why?

Many questions, yet they were all without answers. Glancing at the corner that would lead to the third floor, he gave a slight shrug, whisking out his wand as he walked over cautiously. He supposed he just had to find out. He just hoped that he wouldn't get killed in the process.

When he turned around the corner, he heard soft noises coming from further up. From his limited sight, he saw that the door leading to the forbidden corridor was ajar. They sounded like angry shouts and vindictive laughter, and Harry had an immediate suspicion of what was happening.

Slinking into the shadows, he crept slowly up the stairs, his wand held at ready. He internally cursed himself for being rash and acting without being sure, but his curiosity was overpowering him. Damn hidden Gryffindor traits.

Making sure to keep low, he kept his ears open for any clues of what was happening up there. He could make out muffled shouts, high-pitched enough to belong to a girl, while in return there was boisterous boyish laughter, that reminded him horribly of the times when he was being bullied.

Gulping, he hastily pushed down the rising memories. The weeks being in Hogwarts and among caring friends and friendly acquaintances, with the exception of a few fools, had done well for him. He refused to let his horrible childhood affect him anymore.

Tiptoeing towards the door, he pushed it slightly aside and slipped in, hiding into the dark shadows.

His emerald eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

A girl he was sure that was Draco's friend, Parkinson, if he remembered correctly, was cornered against the wall, her eyes glaring defiantly at the group of boys surrounding her, her robes crumpled and her dark hair strewn across her shoulders, sweat gleaming on her forehead. Her wand was clenched firmly in her hands. Her body was in a defensive position, her posture ready to retaliate, almost like a snake preparing to strike.

He nearly snarled when he saw who the bullies were. Ronald Weasley and his gang. They had apparently taken a liking to ambushing lone Slytherins, and insulting them. They had not hurt anyone yet, but they had received a fair bit of detentions from the Professors for doing it.

According to the victims, they had always insulted the Slytherins as the evil bastards who stole the Boy-Who-Lived, or something to that effect. Harry Potter had immediately realized what the Weasley was doing. He was blaming the Slytherins for 'taking away' the Boy-Who-Lived from him, and had in turn ambushed them.

He had heard from Neville, a fellow Gryffindor that was less of a fool than the rest, that Weasley believed him to be possessed and controlled by the Slytherins by a potion or spell, and that he believed that he would still be his best friend, and get into the greatest adventures of all time. As long as he could get the Slytherins to 'back off'.

Harry had laughed nonstop for a few hours after he heard that. Hermione didn't even bother bestowing him her famous disapproving glare – she was busy laughing herself, too.

He silently watched as Parkinson point her wand threateningly at the boys, her lips already making out the incantation for the spell.

He was slightly impressed when she casted the Leg-Locker jinx at the boys, the one that was hit immediately fell over, his body hitting the floor with a painful thud. That jinx was not to be taught till the later part of the year, not that he didn't know it, of course.

He stiffened when he realized that her attack prompted the rest of the boys to do so. Quickly making a decision, he reached within his robes and pulled out the half-asleep Eros, hushing her when her annoyed hisses became a little too loud.

Opening a sleepy eye, she silently listened as he conveyed his instructions.

With a reluctant hiss of, "_You owe me, brat_", she slid off into the darkness. Within a few moments, the boys were immediately heard shrieking and screaming their heads off, while Parkinson merely stared dumbfounded at them, her wand still in position.

The boys quickly hoisted their fallen friend up, and rushed towards the door without a second look back. Their gazes were terrified and nervous as they swept pass Harry's hiding place.

Harry waited for a while till Eros was back, hissing softly to make sure Parkinson couldn't hear. "_Good job, Eros. You didn't use poison, I hope?_"

She gave something akin to a snort as a reply, before hissing proudly and smugly, "_I'm not ssstupid, brat. I only usssed my fangs. I must sssay that their meat is pretty tasssty, though not as tasssty as miccce..._" Her eyes slid shrewdly to look at Harry at the last phrase.

Harry rolled his eyes, replying in quiet amusement, "_I will get you mice later on. You sure no one will know they've been chomped on by a snake?_"

She merely leveled an incredulous gaze at him. Harry's lips tweaked up in a smirk, as he shook his head, whispering sardonically, "_Never mind._"

With that, he stepped out from the shadows after Eros slid back into his robes, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. Parkinson snapped out of her shocked state, her head swiveling around to meet the newcomer. Her face immediately smoothed out, void of any expressions as she straightened herself, falling back to her pureblood persona.

Harry smiled internally as he silently approved of her actions, subconsciously doing the same himself.

"Potter. What are you doing here?" she asked distantly, her eyes locked firmly on him, her stance falling back to a slightly defensive and wary one.

"I heard voices," Harry replied neutrally, his gaze knowing as he looked back at her.

The two of them fell into a tense silence, as though testing out each other. Harry merely stood there confidently, allowing his eyes to lock gazes with hers.

After a few moments, Parkinson's lips pursed as she finally couldn't stand the silence and the intense gaze. Cutting the chase, she questioned, "What happened back there?"

Harry smirked as his shoulders rose in a slight shrug. He offered a hopefully innocent expression.

Seeing Parkinson's raised brow, he supposed it didn't work.

He felt her calculating gaze sweeping over him, and for a moment the atmosphere tensed up. It dissipated almost instantly when she relaxed minutely after a while. Stepping forward, her voice softened as she looked uncertainly around.

"You're Drake's friend, so I guess you should be trustworthy. I followed those bloody idiots just now, when I heard them speaking in hush whispers about something. I don't know what they were looking for, but it had something to do with that half-giant grounds keeper. They caught me when the door creaked."

Harry silently processed the information. Was what they were looking for related to what Hogwarts told him? They might, he realized. Gryffindors were prying and foolhardy enough, and apparently they found something. It actually proved Hogwarts' words correct.

Looking up, he was careful to hide any emotions within him. He gave a polite smile, offering his arm like he had seen Draco do with the Pureblood girls before, and bowing slightly. "I see. That encounter was pretty horrible. May I lead you out of this place, Miss Parkinson?"

She gave him a strange look, realization dawning in her face as the strange look morphed into one of amusement and pride. "Seems like Draco is doing you some good, Potter," she commented.

Harry merely grinned back.

With a slight huff, Parkinson swept her hands over the robes and turned around swiftly. Tilting her head back a little, she smirked as she said, "No need to lead me, Potter. I know that you have your own business to go about to. I'm no simpering woman who needs to be rescued by any hero."

Harry retracted his hand and chuckled, bowing as he accepted the hidden compliment and gratitude.

Parkinson quickly disappeared, the click of the door announcing her departure. Almost immediately, Harry swerved around, his eyes locked firmly onto the hidden door he had noticed when he was hiding.

'Yes…traps in…there…'

Hogwarts' whisper once again filtered into his mind, and he walked just a little bit slower. Eying the lock, he took a deep breath. He supposed that behind that door would be the traps or tests or whatever Hogwarts meant.

He withdrew his wand, and gave the lock a light tap.

"Alohomora!"

Pushing the door open, Harry felt his whole throat go dry as he came face to face with a roaring three-headed dog. His whole heart nearly jumped out of his chest when it lunged at him, and his limbs suddenly worked by themselves as he leaped backwards and out of the room, slamming the door in the process.

He swore that the beast hit the door for he heard a very, very loud thud, and he felt a surge of vindictive pleasure at that.

He waited for a moment before adrenaline cleared his brain, and his breath finally evened out before bursting out incredulously, "What the fuck?"

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_-giggles- Harry always gets into a hell load of trouble doesn't he? One after another...tsk tsk._

_**Okay review, people, review! Click that review button before leaving! Hope you enjoyed this chapter(:**_

**_-Myxa_**


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own Harry Potter.**

_Whee! New chapter for you guys, a long one at that(: This chapter was supposed to be posted in June, but my preparations for my mid years delayed it :p_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 13**

The Headmaster leaned back on his chair, his blue eyes twinkling as he thought of the students – in particular, Harry Potter. That boy was an enigma. He had purposely placed him with his relatives, partly for his mother's protection, but also partly because he would become dependent on him once he entered Hogwarts.

It was the only way to keep him safe, and to keep him shielded from any negative influences at the same time. It was perfect for all parties, including young Harry.

He expected the child to be shy, complaint, and helpless, lost without a direction, needing someone to lead the way. His relatives would have done half the work for him, even if unknowingly, since he knew that they would not have whispered even a hint of magic to him. The boy would be alone in this world, and he would be the one who will aid young Harry. He hadn't expected the child to turn out in another way.

Harry Potter was far from shy, but he was filled with prejudice and anti-socialism. He flat-out refused to befriend any Muggle-borns, the only exception being Miss Granger, and the only time he would associate with them was when he needed something from them. He frowned slightly in sadness as he was once again greeted by the realization that he had led the child in the wrong way. He hadn't counted on his relatives on neglecting him.

'Perhaps if I had paid the family a few visits…' he contemplated as his wrinkled fingers stroked his beard. He shook himself as he diverted his thoughts away from the regret. There wasn't time to regret. There was only time to plan.

Young Harry was lost among the intricacies of the magical world, that was for sure, but he had no chance to steer Harry in his way. The purebloods that Harry associated with impeded him from doing anything; rather, they had turned Harry against him. That would not work. He would have to approach the boy sooner or later to change that. The world depended on him to be in the Light.

The boy was powerful, no doubt about that. The power surrounding him could rival his own and Voldemort's, and the comments the other Professors gave merely strengthened that fact. He knew that with proper training, the boy could grow up a strong wizard.

He possessed great power, and his charm rivaled it. If not for the little slips that gave his childhood neglect away, anyone would believe him to be a true pureblood.

The way he acted and moved helped in his charming image. The child moved with a grace rare for his age, thought with a maturity older than his peers, seen from his homework and usual behavior, where he hardly got into any arguments, preferring manipulation, and spoke with an innate irresistibility, commanding attention everywhere he went.

In fact, young Harry reminded him of the other student he had in the past, powerful, enigmatic, mature, manipulative, antisocial and cold. Tom Riddle was one mistake he still regretted.

The Headmaster grimaced slightly, and pushed the thought aside. At least he was doing something to rectify his mistake. Harry Potter was the Prophesized child, and he would bring down Tom.

He leaned forward, propping his chin on his steeped fingers. He won't let young Harry go down the same road as Tom had. There was no news of the Dark Lord yet, but he was sure that he would come back soon. Slowly raising his cup of tea to his lips, he hesitated a little before sipping it.

He didn't like what he was doing, but sometimes, it wasn't all about the greater good. It was about what the people wanted, and needed. A leader of the people like him was slaved, as was thousands before him, and as was what Harry would be.

-HP-

Setting his cup down, he stood up slowly and brushed his robes. Perhaps it was time to check on the protections to see if it was time to add the final touch, and to persuade Professor Quirrell to set up something less destructive. Having trolls about…it was just too much.

Stumbling out of the corridor, he pushed the large wooden door behind him shut. He leant heavily against the door, breathing deeply in a bid to calm himself down. Staying too close to that three-headed freak of a dog had been too much for his nerves. For an instant, the image of him being gobbled up by it flashed across his mind, and panic surged within him. Shaking his head in quick, painful movements, he pushed himself off the door and began pacing around.

Who? Why? How?

First the troll, next this…dog. He wasn't one to believe in coincidences, and this year was filled with so many incidences that he was starting to suspect something afoot. Hogwarts was supposedly to be one of the safest magical places one could find in the magical world.

Trolls were never supposed to enter and attack first years, and three-headed dogs should never have been allowed to be locked behind doors in the school.

Did someone want him dead?

The thought struck him as ridiculous the moment he thought of it, and he shook his head reflexively in rejection. A scuffling sound was heard behind the door, and he jumped up nervously, making his way down the stairs as briskly as he could without falling. His legs felt more or less like jelly when he finally stopped, at a definite distance from the third corridor.

He breathed in and out deeply, finally regaining some semblance of calm within him now that he wasn't anywhere near danger. His head was still rambling with all sorts of possible scenarios that might have happened had he not escaped in time, to the extent that he didn't think he would be able to think of any other things. With a sigh, he brushed his robes a few times to get rid of the dirt and dust, before veering in a direction that would lead him to the kitchens. Perhaps some food will calm him down and let him think logically.

A few practiced turns here and there along the corridors got him submerged into his thoughts again. Why was the dog there? Under normal circumstances, nasty beasts shouldn't be hiding behind school doors right? And what about the troll? Was there a purpose in putting them in Hogwarts?

"…better cooperate…protect Hogwarts…"

Harry perked up as his ears caught whispers of a familiar voice floating from round the corner. They sounded like…Professor Quirrell? His feet unwittingly stepped forward a few steps in a bid to catch a bit more of the one-sided conversation. Then, his steps faltered for a moment when he remembered clearly just what curiosity did to him not long ago.

Shaking his head twice, he took a few steps back from where he stood, and turned determinedly round to walk away. He ignored the nagging feeling that he should be going back.

-HP-

"The corridor Dumbledore asked us to stay away from?" Draco's face looked decidedly ill.

"The very same," Harry replied grimly.

The three of them were once again tucked into the corner of the Library, whispering in low voices so as to not to be heard.

"Are you sure about this, Harry? Three headed dogs behind doors…Is it even possible?" Hermione questioned half skeptically, half worriedly, her hands flipping a thick book nervously.

"Yes! I'm sure!" Harry hissed distractedly, his fingers making sharp snapping sounds with the thin paper as he flipped the pages of the book in hand. His hand immediately stilled as he came upon a page with a hand-drawn picture of something he had seen just that morning.

Pushing the book to the middle of the table, he pointed harshly at the picture, his voice in choppy tones, "There! That was what I saw! You can't possibly tell me that I've mistaken that beast for a puppy, can you? Not when it's lunging right at you!"

Draco and Hermione leant forward to take a look, and the blond's face turned even paler. "A Cerberus? Merlin, we are dealing with a Cerberus?"

He paused a few moments, trying to regain his composure before sinking back into his chair. "I don't think I can ever believe you on this, Harry. A Cerberus in our school? As much as I hate Dumbledore, even I must admit that he treats the welfare of the students as priority. He wouldn't put one in Hogwarts. It's just suicide!"

Frustrated, he raised his eyebrows at him and said sarcastically, "Well, do you need me to show you so that you will believe?"

The silence hung heavily in the air as the two processed what Harry just suggested. Finally, Hermione spoke up, "You know, that would be a good idea. We can just peek around the door and not get ourselves killed…" She trailed off as she saw Harry glaring at her.

Beside him, Draco shook his head, muttering, "This is insane. We are actually thinking on taking a look at Cerberus? Hermione, you may be a Muggle and not understand the dangers of the magical world, but your logic shouldn't fail to tell you that you're courting death if you go."

"I thought you were the one who said it was impossible to have one in Hogwarts?" Hermione snapped back, insulted.

Draco blinked and looked at her, too surprised to scowl. He hesitated at her words, before saying reluctantly, "Well, I suppose we should take a look…"

Harry stiffened and yelped at their ridiculous suggestion, before turning to glower darkly at the both of them. "Are you bloody serious? Are the both of you out of your minds?" he hissed furiously, narrowing his eyes to glare at them. Hermione drew back slightly in fear at his sudden change in demeanor, and when Harry noticed, he urged himself to relax. Beside him, Draco spluttered uncharacteristically, "But you can't expect us to just believe in you! I mean, I know you won't be lying, but who knows if it was some sort of hallucination?"

Harry gritted his teeth at the explanation, a little irritated at the fact that Draco was right. If it had been him, he would have thought that he was mad. Pushing himself off the chair, he said coldly, "Fine. I will go get my Cloak, but don't expect me to go in there with you guys. Go at your own risk."

It wasn't long before the three of them were trooping down the halls, carefully silent so that no one, especially Filch and his dratted cat, would catch them. And to Harry's disappointment, it wasn't much longer either before they reached the third floor corridor. Feeling the same tinge of paralyzing fear he felt before, Harry halted in his tracks and whispered pleadingly, "I know the both of you can't believe me because it sounds ludicrous, but I'm telling you now that it is absolutely true. So please don't go in and get yourselves killed."

In the dark, Harry could still make out the two faces turning to each other before Hermione murmured back, "I still think we should take a look. Nothing will go wrong; we will just peek around the door and get out instantly."

He could feel Draco nodding on the other side of him. Defeated, he sighed, reluctantly dragging his feet up the steps with great trepidation. Theoretically speaking, nothing should go wrong, and the both of them would be able to see the beast before it could see them, and get out safe and sound. But he knew, sometimes, theory doesn't often work that well.

Opening the door with a soft creak, the three of them slipped in. Harry pulled off the cloak and rolled it up with practiced ease, while Hermione closed the door shut behind them, plunging them into almost complete darkness. The trio stayed still and waited for their sight to adjust to the shadowy hallway. For a while there was only breathing to be heard, until Draco spoke up, a hint of tremor in his voice.

"Shall we go?" There was no mistaking the tone that implied that Draco was starting to give a second thought to his hasty decision. Picking up on that tone, Harry brightened up a little as he tried his last attempt in convincing them.

"Just…don't go. Really," Harry insisted, but Draco seemed to have strengthened his resolve, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, meant to be reassuring, yet in turn felt like a burden.

"Don't worry. We will get to the end of this safely," he whispered.

It was with great unwillingness that he told the both of them to go straight down to the end and turn left to get to the door. They turned around and disappeared into the dark with that, leaving Harry alone. Moodily, he started to shift his weight about, filled with worry that something might happen. After a long while, the worry started to morph to concern and alarm when he realized that they shouldn't have taken such a long time.

Green eyes peered into the dark for some hint of shadow or movement that may signal their arrival, but nothing came. He shuffled his feet forward a little, trying to maneuver his way through the dark, his right hand constantly trailing along the wall to keep his direction right. The soft click of his shoes against the cold stone was the only sound that he heard as he moved along the hallway, and was oddly comforting in its own way.

He began to be so used to the smooth wall that guided his way that he was startled when the wall disappeared from under his hand. Blinking and turning his head towards his right, he noted that the hallway actually opened up to another room. He was about to move on, when a strange surge of curiosity welled within him, and he halted, turning confusedly to look into the room. It was dark, with a musty smell that hinted of dust and mothballs. He shook his head and tried to continue his own way, only to realize that he didn't want to. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he began to sense the magic enchantments.

He pondered on his options when something seemed to call for him. Glancing at the innocent looking room once more, he gave in and slipped in, temporarily forgetting his two friends. Moving swiftly – too swiftly for someone in the dark – through the room, he paused in the middle of his progress as he spotted something in the furthest corner of the room.

His eyes picked out a mound of cloth tucked right behind a pillar, covering something that was large and bulky. He moved forward slowly, with an air of uncertainty until he came to a stop right in front of it. His instincts screamed at him to get away, to move away from the unknown magic in the room, but his hands rose unwittingly, and lifted the heavy piece of cloth up without hesitation, raising a huge cloud of dust from the floor. Surprisingly, the cloth seemed to be devoid of dust itself.

It took a few seconds for him to get the cloth off the object it was hiding, and when it was finally off, it revealed…himself?

No. He shook his head internally when he realized that burnished brass surrounded the other "him". A mirror?

His eyes widened when something shifted beside "him", and he instantly looked to his left, only to see that there was only empty air there. He slowly turned back to the mirror, and his breath caught when he saw something, or rather someone, who shouldn't have been in the image. He almost tripped over himself as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the image.

A young couple stood behind him, smiling cheerfully and so obviously in love. The woman had her pretty red hair down, contrasting with the white dress she was wearing with an unearthly beauty. The man beside her was smartly dressed, even though his unruly hair somehow added a rebellious touch. He would have looked almost devilish, if not for his mischievous, boyish face. Harry stared disbelievingly as the woman bent down to hug "him", while the man laid a hand on his shoulder, with what seemed like pride on his face as he looked at "Harry". Harry almost flinched when the woman raised her head and stared right into his eyes, and he realized that they had the same eyes.

It was then that his suspicions were confirmed.

"Mum? Dad?" his whisper resounded round and round in the room, and even in his head, until he thought he was quite insane.

He peered behind his shoulder, only to confirm what he knew before. No one was there. He looked back at the mirror, only to see his…mother waving at him. He could feel something lodged in his throat as something akin to tears welled up in his eyes. He had never seen his parents, only through the scant photos Professor McGonagall had given him as a Christmas present, and see them life-sized and moving struck a chord within him. He raised his hand and placed it flat on the cold surface of the mirror, his trembling fingers tracing his mother's face.

His eyes flickered to his father, who was smiling so widely that made his heart ached. Then something else caught his attention, and he shifted his sight to the dark shadow behind his father, and he breathed in sharply.

He was the one.

-HP-

Sometimes, he felt glad that he had no corporal body. It was rather nice to not feel the almost definite chill settling in, or the wind that blew, so harsh that it broke a few tree branches. Floating quickly through the dark forest, he made haste, knowing that he was about to be late. Shadows of the unknown flitted past him, and he chose to ignore them, knowing that they wouldn't be able to hurt him. He could almost feel his non-existent heart pounding in excitement as he increased his speed.

His mind drifted to the series of events not long ago, and winced. His love was still as foolhardy as always. If he hadn't known him, he would have thought that he loved to live dangerously. But he knew better. His love was just simply a trouble-magnet. Nothing more, nothing less. If one wasn't a trouble-attractor if he accidentally ventured into a den of Dementors when he was eighteen, then no one else would ever be.

The magic in the air was getting thicker, he realized, and he smiled. He must be getting near. Closing his eyes briefly, he felt the tantalizing magic suffusing into his soul, caressing him, comforting him.

He wondered if his love could feel it too. His love had always been more sensitive to magic that he had ever been.

At the thought of his love again, his smile turned slightly bitter. Fate loved to mess up his plans, along with their lives. He had never meant to meet him in that way, and yet, he did. He knew he would never be able to control himself if he gave in to his desires, but yet, he was still drawn towards him, like a helpless moth towards a flame. Eleven years ago they had been separated, being split up into ways no one could have imagined. Fate had been decidedly cruel, and Luna had definitely got it right. It hadn't been easy for anyone of them.

Opening his eyes, he became conscious that the dark forest seemed lighter. Pushing on forward for a few more minutes, he thought he spotted a tall tower. A tinge of ruefulness flickered in his eyes at the sight. His Horcrux search was once again put to a halt just because he couldn't stand being away from his love. He shouldn't have gone to search for him…but perhaps he couldn't regret it. His love would have been dead if he hadn't saved him…

He shuddered at the thought of it, quickly erasing that particular thought.

"_Massster, isss it you?" _a soft, familiar hissing voice entered his ears, and he spun around, glancing everywhere on the ground. She had to be there…

Spotting the familiar green snake peering up on his left, he smirked and drawled, "_Of course. How many spirits that resemble your master do you know?" _

-HP-

Someone screamed. Something akin a blast sounded far away. Something that sounded like elephants storming followed right after.

But Harry was still staring at the mirror, unfazed by all the sounds, not registering any of it. His eyes were locked onto the crimson eyes of the man, watching intensely as he stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself. Something burned within him, and he watched on with bated breath as the man stepped closer and closer, no longer draped by the dark shadows. Every inch of the man felt familiar, every part of him called out to Harry, for reasons he couldn't understand.

He could hear his heart racing as the man finally stopped his progress and looked straight at him, cutting right through his heart. He stopped breathing when the man raised his hand, and placed it flat on the surface, crimson eyes smoldering with so many emotions that Harry's heart thundered. Ever so slowly, he moved himself forward until he was almost touching the mirror, and raised his hand gingerly, matching his own with the one in the mirror.

He watched in fascination as the man moved his own fingers to align them with his own, and for a moment Harry marveled at how fitting it was. Every crease, every line. He never thought his heart could beat faster. He turned back to look at the man, only to realize that he was looking at him intently, almost to the extent of hunger, but Harry didn't mind, couldn't mind. All that mattered was the name that swirled in his head.

"Tom…" a breathy whisper was spoken.

The man opened his mouth, almost as if he was saying something, and Harry instantly zeroed in onto his lips.

"Harry!" a frantic voice called into his ear, breaking the trance-like obsession he was in with the mirror.

Confused, he looked to his right blearily, until he could focus on the familiar countenance of his female friend that was hidden mostly by the darkness. He distinctly registered the hand that was on his shoulder, busy shaking him.

"Harry! Oh Merlin, Harry! What's wrong with you?"

Slowly, the cloud seemed to lift from his head, and he finally realized who it was that was calling him.

"H-Hermione?"

A flash of another figure from behind her caught his notice, and it was with little difficulty that he remembered why he was standing there.

"Draco? Hermione?" his voice starting to pick up some sense of relief to see that both of his friends were alright, "Oh God I'm so glad you guys are fine! I've been worried!"

"Harry? What were you looking at?" a suspicious voice started, which Harry recognized as Draco's.

He blinked, startled at the question. What was he looking at? Turning back uncertainly, he swallowed reflexively as he saw the same image. This time though, it brought about pain instead of longing, and he backed away from the mirror, closing his eyes shut.

"I…T-this…" he whispered, unable to form coherent sentences, his mind still whirling with what he had seen, and he tried to reconcile with his inexplicable emotions. His fingers combed through his unruly hair in reflex, pulling some of it in an attempt to ease his frustration. He could feel Hermione's concerned gaze on him, but he could hardly bring himself to acknowledge it.

He heard shuffling of feet nearby and a quick intake of breath before Draco murmured, "Harry…Oh shucks, this is the Mirror of Erised! What in the world are you doing with it?"

Harry opened his eyes at the slight panic in his voice, staring up at the blond with weary eyes as he asked, puzzled, "Mirror of Erised?"

Everything was quiet for a while, as Draco shuffled about in the darkness. "Lumos," he muttered, and light filled up the area they were standing in.

"Look," Draco beckoned, his hand waving at the top of the mirror, his fingers tracing the carvings '_erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi' _carefully, before moving his fingers in the opposite direction, murmuring as he did so, "I show not your face, but your heart's desire."

Harry's eyes widened as he took it in, staring at Draco, dumbfounded. His heart's desires. His parents. The man. _Tom._

The blond seemed to have not noticed his inner turmoil, continuing his recount on the Mirror, "It has been said that the power, or rather, the hold of the Mirror over wizards is so great that many, many wizards wasted their lives right in front of it. No matter how powerful they are, no matter how wise they are."

Hermione gasped, "But why? What's so interesting about this mirror?"

"The Mirror shows you your most desired scene, the things that you want most in your life. Only if you are perfectly happy and satisfied with your life will you see yourself exactly in your present state in the Mirror. Tell me, Hermione, was there ever something that you would give anything to obtain? Was there any mistakes in your life that you would give anything to go back and change it? That is exactly what happens to people looking at the Mirror. Most of them will get stuck at 'what ifs' and fantastical scenes. The virtual reality in the Mirror draws and appeals to people to the extent that people can no longer differentiate between reality and fantasy."

The explanation couldn't register itself in his head. It was almost as if he couldn't tear himself away from the Mirror. It was dangerous, he knew, but he couldn't make himself move.

"Draco," he whispered, "what do you see in the mirror?"

Startled, Draco looked at him, and promptly became alarmed when he saw Harry being fixated with the Mirror. "Harry! Stop looking at it, please!"

But Harry didn't notice the call. All he could see was the scene evolving in front of him.

"Tell me, Draco, can one see how you look like in the future in the Mirror?" he asked softly, almost unfocused.

"What? No of course not! It may make alterations to your figure to make you look older or slimmer, but it won't change how you look like now completely. Now please stop looking at it!"

'Strange,' Harry thought distantly. The "him" in the Mirror changed. Into someone whom he could hardly recognize, if it wasn't for the emerald eyes. He was sure it was him, in the future…but it wasn't possible, was it? Not if what Draco said was true.

"He" walked towards the man, with something he almost couldn't identify in his stance. It took a while to click. Possessiveness. "He" was possessive, purposeful…and was that lust? But over what?

"Harry!" He saw the both of them starting to move over from the corner of his eyes, but he still continued to watch on, with a growing sense of urgency. Something about what was happening in the mirror seemed off, and he didn't know why. The way "he" looked, the way "he" walked, it reminded him of something that prickled at the back of his mind, but what frightened him in the primal sense was the fact that the man stared at "him" with the same amount of obsession.

A hand shot out to grab the arm of the man, and yanked him forward. Harry could feel his heart beat roaring; his head pounding heavily while his blood burnt as "he" grabbed the man by the back of the neck and devoured the man's lips, the deep, dark possessiveness swirling in his eyes unmistakable.

Something within him seemed to break.

… "_I want you. I want you forever and ever, Harry James Potter."…_

_A sparkling ruby ring on his finger, matched by an emerald one on the finger of his bonded._

Harry gasped as he felt his legs weaken, a sense of desperation taking hold of him. The pain in his head seemed to be growing, and the words _"I want you..." _echoed in his mind, seeming to mean something, yet he couldn't quite grasp it. Someone took his shoulders firmly and shook him, and he could hear someone calling him. A figure blocked his view from the mirror, but he could hardly care.

"Harry. Harry! What's wrong, Harry!"

He took in a few raspy breaths, shaking his head in denial and fear. Everything felt wrong. Tilting his head up, he distantly felt the wetness on his cheeks as he looked into concerned eyes, and asked helplessly, almost like a child, "Who is he? Who…is he?"

His friends had no answer to that, and the silence hung almost painfully around the trio as Harry began to tremble.

-HP-

Something lurched within him, and his head instantly shot up, eyes narrowing at the castle.

"_Master?"_

* * *

**_Review! Hope you liked the chapter XD_**

**_-Myxa_**


	15. Chapter 14

**_Cheers!_**

_Eh heh, I guess I got too distracted with real life(: To be honest with you guys, I've no idea where this story is heading. It was so well-planned at first, then the story got ahead of me, and ta dah, I've no idea how to continue from here. But I figure I can't deny you guys their reunion, so there ya go(: Hope you enjoy this chapter! All mistakes in this chapter are purely mine._

**Chapter 14**

He couldn't move. He tried, but his limbs didn't want to cooperate. And so he knelt there, whispery voices and hazy figures at the edge of his awareness and vision, while he continued to tremble helplessly. He recognized the dampness on his cheeks, dimly registering his sharp, indrawn breaths. Nothing seemed important, but the very wisp of scene he was trying to grasp.

"_Forever and ever…Harry…"_

His mind seemed to be plunged into a deep darkness, and he no longer knew what he was thinking, what he was supposed to think. It was blank, deceptively blank. Something seemed to be hiding behind nothingness, and he didn't know what. Akin to a reflex, his fingers jerked up in front of his eyes, and he almost expected to see something there. His…ring? His emerald ring.

Something seemed to piece together within him, and he whispered almost agonizingly, "W-where is…it? Where is it?"

"Where is what? What, Harry?" Hermione asked, panicked, her hysterics mounting, right about to take control of her. She felt like a stranger on the other side of the window, unable to communicate, unable to make Harry recognize her, unable to do anything. Beside her, Draco looked almost haunted as he stared at the trembling boy. His heart thudded as he heard Harry's next sentence.

"My ring. The one Tom gave to me," Harry replied so softly that it was near impossible to catch, but with such resolution that for a moment, the both of them thought that he wasn't insane, and what he just said made sense.

But it didn't.

"W-what? Ring? You don't own a ring, Harry," Hermione whispered comfortingly, almost patronizingly, knowing how fragile he was. Draco didn't say a word, simply tightening his hold on the smaller boy.

Harry tilted his head sideways, a confused expression clouding his face as he murmured questioningly, "No ring? But I know I have never taken it off…Tom told me…" He broke off with a gasp as he shut his eyes close tightly. A thud roared its way through his head, and he whimpered softly.

Draco blinked at his words, and asked, "Who's Tom, Harry?"

It took a few seconds for the reply to come. Harry frowned and his brows creased, as though thinking deeply. "Tom…? My Tom, of course. Don't…you know him?"

"Humor me, Harry. Who's he? His full name," he whispered. Hermione looked at him curiously, and he shot her a warning glance not to interrupt.

Harry tilted his head, the frown returning back in full force. Shifting about in their embrace, he said matter-of-factly, "Tom Riddle. My bonded. Shouldn't you know? We invited you Malfoys to our…" he broke off with a hiss as his fingers flew to his forehead.

Both Draco and Hermione gasped at the same time, their eyes. Hermione blurted out, "Bonded? Harry what are you saying?" at the same time when Draco said harshly, "Tom _Riddle_? As in V-v-vol – You-know-who?"

Upon hearing that, Hermione turned her almost hysterical stare towards Draco and almost nearly shrieked, "What?"

"Shhhhhh!" Draco hushed instantly, glaring at her, "do you want the whole world, or even worse, _Filch_, to find us? Merlin!"

Harry whimpered, and attempted to curl in on himself as his headache pounded and multiplied in intensity. 'What were Draco and Hermione quarrelling about? My bonded…? Wait… That doesn't sound right. I'm only…Eleven years old? Or was it twenty?' He groaned loudly, silencing the other two, while he struggled to stand up.

"Harry! What are you trying to do?" Hermione hissed, trying to gain her balance after the boy broke away from her hold.

Harry mumbled softly and hurriedly, almost as though in a confused state, and all Hermione could hear was, "Need to find him."

"Need to find who? Harry, wait up!" Hermione and Draco scrambled up from their kneeling states and attempted to follow Harry, nearly knocking into each other in their haste.

Their confusion only doubled as a stumbling Harry made his way further into the corridor. Draco used his hands to guide him as he followed against the walls, while Hermione simply held on to his shirt and shuffled along, afraid to kick onto something. All the while, their eyes were trained on glimpses of Harry's silhouette, courtesy of the faint moonlight from a small window.

Hermione was the first one to realize where Harry was taking them to, and froze in her tracks as she clenched onto Draco's shirt tightly, not caring that she might have crumpled it.

"He's going to that hellhound, isn't he?" an alarmed whisper sounded, just as Harry's shadow disappeared round the corner, where the door leading to the dog resided.

-HP-

"_And that boy! Always such a troublemaker, fighting a troll, Salazar!" _

He ignored the rambling hisses from his companion, eyes trained on his surroundings. Something felt off, and not simply because he was in Dumbledore's territory. An undercurrent of unease lurked in the shadows, underneath all the pleased murmurings of Hogwarts as she embraced the return of her most favourite child – albeit of another universe.

"_Once he remembers I hope he won't be as foolhardy! Goodness gracious, plunging fifty feet to get the sparkly ball!"_

His eyebrow quirked at that sentence, and he asked amusedly, _"He is still performing his Quidditch tricks? Well he did always love them…"_

His amusement rose as the snake spluttered, _"What? He's going to continue? He's not a bird, but a two legged man!"_

Snorting, he gave the same line that Harry always fed him, "_Well 'I belong to the sky', he says."_

"_Like hell!"_

"_Language, Eros. If Harry picks up this language, I will know who to blame," _he reprimanded lightly, a teasing tone belying his words.

"_If he remembers, the last thing you will care is his language. You'll be too busy ravag –" _He coughed lightly to cut off the snake's statement.

"_This way?" _he questioned warningly, diverting the topic. The snake merely stared at him with her black beady eyes for a few seconds, and hissed nonchalantly, _"Stop being such an asshole about Harry, and yes, the Stone's that way."_

Tom pursed his lips and floated just a little faster. It wasn't that he was, as Eros put it, an asshole about Harry, but he couldn't help but be nervous. He wasn't sure if Harry would ever see him as Tom, his bonded anymore. For all he knew, he could have been indoctrinated into the 'fear Voldemort' club. He 'killed' his parents, and subjected him to the 'care' of Dursleys for the next ten years. How could Harry ever see him as his lover again? It didn't help that it was his fault that they landed in this universe.

All he wanted now, was the safety of Harry. Nothing else mattered.

The unease in the atmosphere grew stronger, and a thought struck him.

"_Eros. Where's Harry now?" _he asked urgently.

"_Harry? His room, I suppose," _came the puzzled reply.

"_Are you sure?" _he bit out nervously, not liking her reply.

"_He should be. It's after curfew. You don't think…" _she trailed off as she realized where he was getting at.

The air sparked with angry magic, and his bonds to Harry, no matter how weak they are, thrummed for a moment with something Tom recognized as hysterical panic.

"_I don't think. I know,"_ he hissed out bitingly, finally moving much more rapidly.

How could an eleven year old boy – with a twenty year old soul and magic – get into so much trouble?

The bonds connecting them pulled viciously, and Tom froze in his tracks, gasping for breath.

'Wha –?' he wondered confusedly. Taking in a deep breath, he ventured along the connection that he so feared after his soul broke apart – fearing that his insanity and instability would affect his lover. For a while he could feel nothing, and the next instant he was plunged into a pool of panic and mind-numbing fear. Flashes of his memories appeared before his eyes, but suddenly he knew. Those weren't his memories. Those were Harry's.

Sinking to his knees, he tried to extricate himself from the whirlpool of emotions, only to find himself stuck. He swallowed reflexively as he braved the storm of fear and bewilderment, and to his astonishment, caught sight of what he supposed Harry was seeing. He saw the darkness, felt the cold stone floors beneath his feet, spotted the glimpse of a huge wooden door, and heard the soft shuffling sounds behind him. He felt the hesitation, and yet sensed the underlying determination.

He heard someone – a girl – saying, "He's going to that hellhound, isn't he?"

His blood froze at those words.

Three months ago, Eros reported to him that the Philosopher's Stone was in Hogwarts. Two months ago, she said that she overheard plans regarding the Stone. One month later, he got hold of all the spells, traps and enchantments utilized to protect the Stone.

And one of them involved a Cerberus.

With a painful wrench, he pulled himself away from the bond, and felt like he was drenched in icy water; awake and gasping for breath. He nearly jumped in surprise when he realized that Eros was hissing intelligible words in his ear, distraught.

"_Shh…" _he placated.

Painfully, he pushed himself up from the floor, dimly aware of his scraped palms that probably came from gripping the rough stones on the floor too tightly. It was funny how only extreme pain could inflict injuries on him now, and only things that he wanted to touch could touch him. Brushing himself off, he picked the snake up and practically tore down the corridors, albeit still looking regal and dignified as he did so.

Coupled with his prior knowledge of the structure of Hogwarts, as well as Eros' directions, he soon found himself heading towards the underground dungeons. The cold seeped into the air, but he floated through it as though it didn't matter – and actually, it didn't really matter since he was almost impervious to anything. The dank smell grew stronger from the mold and dirt accumulated from the years of lack of usage, and soon enough, Eros was busy complaining.

Tightening his hold on the snake, he make a swift turn to the left, noting that it was the fifth out of the seven turns he needed to make. Not many knew that in the dungeons of Hogwarts, not only did the Slytherin dormitories exist, but so did a whole set of underground tunnels leading to almost everywhere in Hogwarts. No one knew these underground tunnels as well as he did. They had served well throughout his schooling years, not only as short-cuts, but also as hideaways.

'_Where is he? He must be here somewhere, that half-blood bastard!'_

He shook himself visibly as that memory unwittingly presented itself in his mind. His childhood had never been pleasant, and his first few schooling years hadn't been much better, until he discovered the depths of his power, his heritage, and influence. The sixth and seventh years that made his life hell at first hadn't stood a chance after that.

A soft hissing caught his attention, and he blinked almost surprisedly as he faced a pile of rubble.

'That hadn't been there in my universe,' he mused, 'now what?'

Eros echoed his sentiments.

Time ticked by, and he began feeling just a little panicky. He quickly squashed that tendril of panic, firm in his control of his emotions. A Lord had to handle different situations with a cool head, and he was one of the most experienced Lords, of one of the most powerful houses. An idea struck him, and he reached out to Hogwarts and requested her to help.

"Why…not yourself?"

"I can only use my magic when my emotions run high, Hogwarts my lady. My magic is bound mostly as a spirit," a tinge of regret and resentment coloured his respectful tone. The partial loss of magic was a constant source of frustration for him, for magic was his life.

Silence filled the cramped tunnel for a few seconds, and just as Tom thought that Hogwarts had whimsically forgotten his request again, a rush of magic made his head spin for a moment. The corner of his lips quirked up in a slight smile and he watched gratefully as the rubble lifted themselves and fitted back into the ceiling and the surrounding walls, slowly but steadily paving a way towards where he knew held the Stone.

-HP-

The air was thick with the mind-numbing smell of fear and anxiety, intertwined with the smell of cold sweat and perspiration. Draco and Hermione huddled right behind Harry, each grasping hold of one arm, gently, yet insistently pulling. But Harry wasn't budging.

"It's behind this door, I tell you! Draco, Hermione, let me go!" a soft voice broke out pleadingly.

None of his usual control presented himself as Harry practically clung to the door handle like a child clutching to his mother's skirt, refusing to let go at all. A sense of desperation filled him as he tried to persuade his two friends to let him proceed – alone or together, he wasn't picky. He knew that his questions were somehow going to be answered behind the door. All his dreams that plagued him since young, all the strange feelings, and all the inexplicable scenes in his mind.

A scuffling right at the end of the corridor caught all of their attention, and for a moment, all three froze. Harry felt the end of his sleeve being curled tighter into Hermione's hand, his heart pumping wildly as the sound grew louder. As the scraping sounds approached them, the trio tensed up and started backing up against the very thing they wanted to run away from – the door leading to the Cerberus. In one swift movement, Harry turned around and yanked open the door, pulling all three of them into the room.

Draco blinked in surprise to see the previously active and overly ferocious dog slumped down on the floor. At the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione gape at the exact same scene. Harry merely glanced at the Cerberus dispassionately, and his eyes flitted right and left, before stopping right at the dark corner on their right. Tentatively, both Draco and Hermione tiptoed to follow Harry, who stepped much closer to the unconscious dog. It was only then that Draco and Hermione heard it: orchestral music flowing softly in the room. Draco recognized the tune instantly.

"Danse Macabre," he whispered. Music, unlike other inventions, hadn't been discriminated by the Pureblood society, simply because it was a thing that existed since the beginning of time. Different styles may be preferred, but beautiful music were equally appreciated. Certain composers especially, were favoured as they had possessed magical blood, or were squibs of famous bloodlines.

Like politics and heritage, pureblooded children were taught from young about their artistic culture and traditions. The Malfoy family in particular, had always been well-versed with it.

Harry murmured, "It's a beautiful piece. Look here."

The change in subject was so abrupt that for a moment both of them couldn't catch up. Harry beckoned them with a wave of his hands, and they cautiously shifted themselves so that they were behind the Cerberus.

"Look," Harry repeated, softly.

Squinting into the dark, it was Hermione who spotted it first.

"A trapdoor!" she gasped, "but…how?"

"More like why, Hermione," Draco commented grimly, "shall we?"

Nodding tightly, Harry bent down and tugged on the metal ring, slightly surprised at how easy it was to pull it open. The trap door swung up effortlessly, hampered only by the heavy weight of the Cerberus, and without any hesitation Harry shimmied across the small dark gap and dropped into the unknown.

Draco persistently ignored the fact that it was a stupid idea to slide himself into somewhere that was potentially dangerous, unsafe, life-threatening, and Merlin forbid, _slimy_, and bravely slid himself across the floor. He gulped when he realized that his legs dangled in the air, and there was no probable ground anywhere near. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed himself off the hard stone floor. For an instant, he hung in midair, before plunging right down into darkness. For the first time throughout their adventurous night, he screamed out his bottled up fear.

Training to control his emotions under a mask could only do that much.

That left with Hermione, who had turned ashen-face. She shuffled forward reluctantly, summoning what was left of her Gryffindor courage, and knelt down beside the trap door. She froze there, paralyzed by the unknown. She had always been in the know, especially in terms of academic knowledge. Knowledge was her walking stick – without it, she was blind, she was afraid. And she was afraid then.

She clenched her sweaty palms, and inched her way slowly through the gap. A sound of movement caught her attention, and she slowly looked up, frightened of what she may see. True enough; the Cerberus was blinking at her sleepily, its paws scratching the back of one of its ears. It was then that she realized that the music had stopped playing. In a matter of a few seconds, she decided that the unknown was a lesser evil than being eaten up by a dog, and pushed her way through the gap.

-HP-

He felt like he was walking in a dream. Everything seemed surreal, everything seemed to be there with a purpose, yet without purpose. He wasn't in control of his movements, but he wasn't panicking, because he knew where he was going. And yet he didn't know.

Did that make sense?

It probably didn't. It was just like a dream.

Mechanically, he watched Hermione shoot bluebell flames at the plants trapping them, and he slid dispassionately down onto the ground. Impatience shot through him as he watched his two friends struggle to stand and balance themselves, which was strange in itself. He was exasperated, irritated, annoyed by the two of them at times, but never impatient. Impatience was for the other fools in the school.

A surge of magic flowed through the air, and he looked up. The call for him was getting stronger. Whirling around, he stepped through the only tunnel he could see, barely registering the fact that Hermione and Draco had just regained their balance and were running after him.

He had barely took one step in when a sudden whisper in his head made him stop. Blinking, he savoured the momentary lapse of sanity as he recognized who it was.

'Hogwarts?'

'My child, take the door in the corner… All your questions…will be answered…' The whisper was soft, but resolute and clear. Harry didn't hesitate when he turned back. His eyes scanned the small cavern through with a surprisingly large amount of patience, while his mind conversed with its temporary inhabitant.

'Who will be there?' he asked, uncaring that it may sound rude.

'My child…my child will be there,' the whisper grew just a little louder, and the next instant, the familiar presence in his head disappeared. Already used to Hogwarts' whimsical ways, Harry ignored it. It took a few scans before he managed to spot a flash of wood in the corner furthest from him.

"Harry? Isn't it this way… Oh," Hermione asked hesitantly, only to be dumbfounded when her raven haired friend pulled open a hidden door.

Silence settled uncomfortably between the three as Draco and Hermione tried to ignore the fact that Harry had just became weirder. A choked laugh from Draco seemed to tense up the atmosphere even further, as he commented half-heartedly in a failed attempt to lighten the mood, "Well, kind of obvious that the professors wouldn't rummage through whatever that is after that tunnel…"

Harry hadn't even heard that comment. The pull on him had gotten so strong that he could hardly breathe. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, and when it failed, he gulped and tightened his muscles that were starting to tremble. Only when he felt that he wouldn't fall while walking did he progress on.

The door led to a rather spacious tunnel that was clearly used recently. None of the usual dank underground smell lurked, and there were no fungi or decaying plants anywhere.

"Lumos," Hermione whispered, and the next instant the gentle light washed over where they were standing.

Harry blinked when his path was suddenly illuminated. He hadn't even noticed Hermione casting the spell. His attention was once again diverted by the tug within him.

Exhaling softly, he followed the evolving pull on him. It seemed like an eternity as they walked on the same looking path, but a comfortable atmosphere settled between them, with Hermione murmuring spells to brighten the place or clear any fallen rocks, and Draco turning back every now and then to check if anyone followed them, while Harry, being the only one who seemed to know where he was going, did the leading.

Up…down…left…left…right…

Dimly, somewhere within him, he was gratified that no one was asking any questions. But expressing that gratitude will have to wait. He knew that his answers lay… behind that door.

They came to halt behind a small, yet heavily locked door. Hermione raised her wand and tried a series of complicated-sounding spells to no avail. As the barrage of spells came to a lull, there was no awkward pause as Harry merely raised his hands and laid them on the door, leaning forward so that his forehead touched the cold, hard metal of the locks.

"Tom, open the door," he breathed.

His heart leapt as he heard a click, and he quickly pushed himself off the door as it swung open.

Two bursts of red light shot from the darkness and the mist that lay beyond, hitting his two friends in the next second. A quick glance ensuring that they hadn't hit their head on anything put him at ease, and he bravely took a step forward.

Raising his wand, he murmured, "Lumos."

Eyeing the mist suspiciously, it didn't take long for him to decide that it was magically induced. He raised his hand once more, and said, his voice trembling, "Finite Incantatem."

The mist shifted, revealing partially the same man he had been looking for – the one in the troll incident, the one that was in the mirror – with a snake coiled up his left hand.

He reeled back in recognition.

"_Eros…"_ he hissed confusedly, and he tilted his head upwards to look into his eyes.

Crimson clashed with emerald, and Harry screamed.

Scenes flooded his mind, scenes that he knew were familiar, that he knew he had seen in dreams before.

_There's nothing I can do, Lord Potter. I have tried all I can._

_I love you, eternally_.

_I love you too__, forever_.

He felt his head being gently tilted up, and felt his lips being covered by something warm, moist, yet bitterly distant at the same time.

Something seemed to break within him, and flashes of memories no longer became scenes. Instead, a whole story presented itself before him.

He gasped lightly and arched off the ground – since when was he on the floor? – clenched his eyes shut as what he once knew became his knowledge again. It felt like being dunked in cold water and yet surrounded by warmth at the same time. But he felt alive. Much more alive and refreshed than he had ever been as an aimless child for the past ten years.

He knew who he was.

He remembered.

_Tom._

_

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_**Review! Thanks for reading!**_

_**- Myxa**_


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